Internationally Wanted Criminals
by BlackCatHikari
Summary: Five years after Reborn first entered his life, Tsuna is finally getting used to life as Vongola Decimo. Even being internationally wanted criminals can't phase the tenth generation. But when a new enemy appears right as the police make their move, can the young Vongola mafioso and their allies pull through? Partial police POV. Three-way war. 4YL.
1. An Introduction

_Hey everyone! It's been a while since I've written anything and much longer since I've posted, but hopefully this is not too bad. It's basically a WIP that I've been thinking of writing. If it amuses you, and isn't too confusing, please review and tell me what you liked and didn't like. Thanks! See you._

_**EDIT 27/07/12: **__So. Long story short, I changed the plot and had to edit/rewrite the first six chapters. Some chapters are basically the same, some are quite different. Chaps 5 and 6 have been switched (um, oops? I got my timeline mixed up) but that's the most major difference. Anyway, it is finally done so I hope you all enjoy!_

_**EDIT 08/11/12:** Not much changed this time, just some characterisation and plot holes. General editing, basically.  
_

* * *

"Everyone sit down and shut up! We've got a lot to cover, and no where near enough time."

The hushed chatter of the new recruits fell away as chairs scraped and books and pens were dumped on each table. Eager as they were to get out on the streets and catch some criminals, every one of the new police officers knew how important it was to know who the enemy was _before_ you ran into them at the dark end of a dingy alleyway.

The Sergeant, dumped with the unfortunate task of briefing the '_new idiots' _ on just who they were up against, sighed and let his briefcase fall to the desk with a _thud_, raising his arms to cross them in front of his chest. Early Monday morning was not the time for this kind of hell. Paperwork was preferable to these brats - at least then he could chew someone out when things went wrong. Unfortunately there were rules about these things with the kids - ease them into the service, or something. Stupid bureaucratic bullshit.

"I'm gonna make this quick, so pay attention. If you have questions, keep 'em 'til the end. I won't guarantee to answer them, particularly if they're stupid, but you might get lucky. Any arguments?" The Sergeant - a thickset man, a good six-two with broad shoulders, plenty of muscles and a closely-shaven head - glared down at the class, daring any to disagree. None so much as twitched, the front row having already hunched down into their seats, and the Sergeant couldn't suppress an internal smirk. Still had it, apparently.

"Today and Thursday you're with me, learning basic info on the main members of the Vongola, the current most powerful mafia famiglia in Italy. Wednesday and Saturday you have a practical skills test - and no, I'm not telling you about it now. You'll turn up when you're told to, and get your instructions on the day."

"Right." Reaching down to snap the locks on his case, he pulled a few papers and rifled through them for a moment before slamming one up on the board behind him. A magnet was thrown at it a second later, miraculously sticking in place and holding the page up. "First off we've got this man. Public enemy number one, and the current head of the largest criminal organisation in the world. This is Tsunayoshi Sawada, the tenth head of the Vongola Mafia Famiglia."

Silence, complete and utter silence even deeper than when the Sergeant had been talking, fell over the room, An air of surprise, then disbelief followed it, then the creaking of desks and chairs at the recruits leaned forward to get a better look. Pinned to the board was an A4 photo of a young Japanese man, brown hair sticking in all directions and soft brown eyes set above a smiling mouth. He looked the picture of innocence, and there wasn't one person in the room who didn't have trouble connecting him with the cold-hearted, merciless killer they had assumed would lead such a notorious outfit.

Another sigh, accented by the beginning of a growl, left the Sergeant's mouth as he noticed the expressions on the recruits' faces. This was why he hated doing the Vongola briefing - nobody ever believed the warnings until it was too late and they found themselves at the receiving end of a Vongola attack. Which he had suffered from one time too many, thank you very much.

"But-" A voice sounded from the back of the room and it was a battle between who was curious enough to look and who was too scared to turn their heads. "He's so young! How does the Vongola survive with a kid at the helm? He looks useless!"

Teeth grinding at the interruption, the Sergeant glared at the offending recruit until she shrank down into her seat. "Sawada's thought to be eighteen currently, though the photo's a year old, and he's been the head of the Vongola famiglia for at least three years, possibly longer. He was trained by the Arcobaleno Reborn, who personally lays claim to the title of the greatest hitman in the world. If-" A hand was raised nervously into the air and the Sergeant glared and growled out, "Arcobaleno are covered in next week's lectures. Now shut up."

A pause, checking for cooperation, then he continued with a lighter tone. "If it's true that the Vongola Decimo was trained by Reborn then it's likely that his skills surpass what we've been able to see so far. Current intel lists Tsunayoshi Sawada as being a close-range physical-combat type, with weapons created by the Vongola family which resemble leather gloves with metal plating but which also allow him to fly, at least for brief periods. We don't know how they've managed that-" the Sergeant scowled, remembering the government's scrapped attempts to design similar technology, "-particularly since we have reports of the potential flight capabilities of members of several famiglias, but it's an ability Vongola uses to his advantage.

"If you ever end up facing off against Vongola, the recommended strategy - which you can read all the details of in the supplied information booklet 'cause I ain't going through the whole thing - is to get somewhere enclosed, where he can't fly around and hit you from above. Make him stick close to the ground, limit him to your range of movement, and don't even think of getting too damn close. He's fast, so shoot the instant you've got a clear shot." _And hope to hell you get lucky_, the Sergeant added mentally. Giving the recruits hope - officially the book said 'the confidence to act appropriately in any given situation' but screw the book - was one of the few parts of this job he actually didn't hate. They were useless in the field once they knew the truth, after all.

"We also know Sawada and his 'Guardians' - his closest subordinates, who're usually also the strongest - were active in the mafia world for a while before Sawada inherited the position of the tenth boss, but exactly what they were doing is unknown. We've got records of a few conflicts - Sawada's original Inheritance Ceremony being attacked by another famiglia is one - but the number of sightings of Sawada and his Guardians has skyrocketed in the last two years."

Pausing so the recruits could attempt to absorb that information, smirking at the few who were trying to scribble down everything he said, the Sergeant began rifling through his pile of papers again. "It's because of their recent work that law enforcement organisations around the world have started paying attention though. Moving to Italy for one - the tenth generation were based in Japan until last year - and finally stepping out of the shadows for another. Until recently, very few of the Vongola's movements were seen outside of the underworld. A couple of months ago, that changed. And now we're trying to work out why."

Glaring around at the recruits, daring any of them to comment on the police's lack of information - the Vongola were _secretive_, dammit! - the Sergeant took note of a few that looked troublesome. A guy off to one side, with hands that looked like they'd never done an hour's work and a haughty expression, and two girls in the back who hadn't written a thing and kept sharing looks as if talking silently. Brats, definitely, and worse than the rest of them. Hopefully they'd be bad enough he could kick them out before they pissed him off too much.

"This," the Sergeant raised his voice over the beginnings of muttering and slammed another image onto the board, jumping to the next topic, "is the aftermath of Vongola's latest raid on a rival famiglia." Hiding a smile at the sudden silence, he continued in a chillingly soft, echoing voice, "This is the work of only one man, people - one man who's known as a one-man army: the Vongola's Cloud Guardian, Kyouya Hibari."

After a pause - satisfying, the way silence had fallen - another image was added next to the last and this time a shiver went through some of the recruits.

Whatever they had been expecting to see in the pictures of the Vongola mafioso, Hibari easily met, if not surpassed, that mark. This image had been captured by a security camera as he left the building destroyed in the photo next to it. It was grainy and a little blurred, but the sharp eyes and wicked, if slight, grin were unmistakable. Add to that the spiked tonfas still clutched in his hands and the suit, immaculate but for the odd splattering of blood (not his own, that was obvious), and Kyouya Hibari was the embodiment of an evil, heartless, murdering mafioso.

The destruction of the manor, highlighted by an aerial shot that left nothing to the imagination, was a testament to Hibari's power. Though taken from a far distance, the picture easily illustrated just how little of the building had been left standing - part of one side and the back wall, if you could still call it that. The main door hung from its hinges, the frame surrounded by nothing but the rubble of what had once been the front wall, and the remains of the roof lay scattered around the house - seemingly thrown outwards by some force, though there was no sign of explosives having been used, and broken as if it had been pierced by multiple large spikes.

It was destruction the like of which none of the recruits had ever seen before. The idea that _one person_ could be responsible for what looked like the site of a bomb explosion was mind-shattering - and, indeed, had several of the recruits trembling at the thought of ever running into the person responsible. Someone like that - who could cause that much destruction so easily - deserved to be called nothing less than a _demon._

"Hibari is one of the strongest mafioso in the Vongola," the Sergeant continued with a partially-hidden smirk, "possibly rivaling Decimo himself. He's also the leader of 'Foundation', a Japanese organisation with unknown goals, and seems to have all the financial back up he needs. He fights with custom tonfa - a pair of twenty-inch long metal rods with handles that also contain spikes and a chain. Like his boss, it's recommended that you trap him, keep him in a confined area, and shoot from a distance.

"Lucky for you," and this time the Sergeant didn't bother to hide his grin, "Hibari rarely works with the other Vongola. When he does the best advice is to stay far, far away, trap him and take out the others first. It makes your job a little easier."

The Sergeant let a grim smile pull at his lips. 'A little easier' was an overstatement - it was a well known fact among the local police that one Vongola Guardian was hard to beat, two was near impossible, and three or more, Hibari, Sawada, or any combination thereof was best avoided at all costs. Still, it didn't hurt to let the recruits hope a little. They were more useful when they didn't immediately run screaming at the very mention of 'Vongola' (like some of the more experienced officers).

"Sir?"

A nervous recruit near the front had their hand up like a school kid, so the Sergeant sighed and jerked his head at them. Taking it as permission to speak, the recruit stammered out, "What was the motivation behind his attack? Was it revenge or..."

The newbie trailed off as they lost their nerve, but the Sergeant grinned. Finally, an _intelligent_ question.

"We don't often know why the Vongola do what they do - noises in the middle of the night and craters of damage the next morning have always been more their thing. Their security, both physical and technological, is tighter than anything you'd see anywhere else, and what we _have_ been able to find hasn't been much use. This, however," the Sergeant waved at the image, feeling his smile grow wider and more wicked, "came with a note. _'Your fight is with us, not our family and friends. Bring innocents into it and we will show no mercy.'_"

Stunned silence again filled the room and the Sergeant took a moment to bask in it. Then, grudgingly serious once more, he added, "This is the one common theme we've been able to find in the Vongola's attacks. They don't take part in the turf wars. They don't run operations with drugs or human trafficking. They don't buy or sell information or trade in weaponry, despite theirs being some of the most advanced out there. In general, they don't do anything which would put them on our radar in a big way.

"The problem, then, isn't what they do as an organisation on a day to day basis. It's when they don't do anything and what happens when they break their silence that's the worry."

Pausing, waiting until he had everyone's attention, waiting until every eye was on him, the Sergeant finally added, "They're justice."

It took a second, but when the confusion set in the Sergeant just leaned back to watch. Though it had come earlier than usual, this was the funnest part of this particular briefing. Never mind shocking them all with facts; watching the recruits tying their brains into knots trying to understand the Vongola famiglia was entertainment, pure and simple.

"But, sir..." The cocky recruit from the start was back, apparently. "If they're... serving justice, then why are we hunting them down?"

"That's just the thing." The Sergeant smiled his brightest, craziest smile at the recruit, then turned it on all the others just for good measure. "'Justice', when you're talking about the Vongola, involves entire buildings flattened or even disintegrated into dust, entire famiglias out of action but not dead, and dozens, if not hundreds, of people in hospital psychiatry wards going on about flames and mysteriously-appearing animals and goddamn_ magical illusions._" A deep breath, a moment to consider the shocked faces in front of him, then the Sergeant continued, "The Vongola represents everything you've ever dreamed of - the good, the bad, and the down-right nightmarish - twisted into one organisation, hell-bent on cleaning up the mafia by _being_ mafia. They flaunt the law then deliver internationally wanted criminals to our doorstep, wrapped in gift wrap. For months, we hear nothing from them - _nothing_ - and then, next thing you know, some town in Italy, Russia, America, or Japan, has been half flattened and nobody can tell you how or by whom.

"The Vongola, ladies and gentlemen, is the craziest, most mind-boggling, most headache-inducing, most unbelievable, most paradoxical, most righteous and most moral criminal organisation you will ever hear of and, unfortunately, they're here to stay. You learn to work with them, or you go crazy. Or both."


	2. Don't Mess With the Vongola

_Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited! I was absolutely amazed when I saw how many people had given feedback, and all of it so supportive! Seriously love this fandom._

_This chapter is a bit different, but you might be able to see where I'm going with this fic now. May I just say though that Hibari is rather annoying to write. I hope I did him justice. And I apologise for taking so long to update - there's a bug going around and I always catch whatever's in fashion._

_In any case, I hope everyone enjoys! (And, don't worry, we'll be back to the Police POV soon enough.)_

_**EDIT 27/07/12: **__*Cuchillo is Italian for 'knife' (according to Google Translate at least). You may want to remember that. :D_

* * *

Hibari glared at the idiot in front of him, pointedly ignoring the other herbivores behind him with their guns and tasers. They were of little worry - he'd trained with the baby often enough that guns no longer posed a problem and no taser could ever match up to the stupid cow on a bad day. Hibari really just wanted to get this mission done so that he could head home to his Namimori.

"Talk."

The fat herbivore spluttered and clawed at his hand and Hibari lessened his grip on the man's throat when he realised that maybe the man wasn't talking because he couldn't, not because he didn't want to. The man coughed, spitting slightly onto Hibari's hand - this _thing_ barely deserved to be called a _worm_, let alone a _herbivore_ - then smirked madly, trying to hide the quiver in his lips and the nervous way his gaze darted all over the room, never meeting Hibari's eyes.

"Why- Why should I s-say anything t-to you? Vo-Vongola bas-tard-"

Hibari growled and slammed his hand forward, effectively shutting the man up and choking off his air supply. There were shouts from behind Hibari but he continued to ignore them, waiting until the man started going blue before he let his hand loosen slightly.

"Talk or die, herbivore."

The idiot glared, finally meeting Hibari's eyes, but then one of his hands dropped from its death grip on Hibari's wrist and the Cloud Guardian whirled to the side just in time for the spray of bullets to miss him - and his captive. Sawada had made him promise not to kill anyone, accidentally or not, after all.

One arm around the idiot's throat, Hibari backed against a non-bullet-riddled piece of wall, the enemy famiglia's boss now a human shield between him and the gunmen. He watched as the subordinates wavered, trying to decide between taking a lucky shot, biding their time or dropping their weapons. Then the hostage waved his hand and they all straightened up, guns aimed at any part of Hibari they could see (which wasn't much once you considered how fat their boss was).

Glaring his patented move-and-I'll-bite-you-to-death glare, Hibari quickly assessed the gunmen - nope, still not any danger there - before turning his attention back to the herbivore he held. "Talk."

By now, the enemy's boss - Don Cuchillo, though he was as much a Cuchillo by blood as Hibari was a Cavallone - was little more than a gibbering mess. He did, after all, have the most dangerous and psychotic Vongola Guardian choking him from behind and a good two dozen guns in front aimed scarily close to his body. Never mind that they were his subordinates. One of them might be a spy or, more likely, they might decide to kill two birds with one stone - get rid of the Vongola Cloud and get a chance at taking over the famiglia at the same time. In the mafia, you never knew when someone was _really_ on your side, or just there until there was a better option.

"Herbivore..."

The man stuttered something completely unintelligible and Hibari, patience finally reduced to nothing (not that there was much to start with), slid a tonfa out of his jacket with practiced ease and brought it smashing down on the idiot's head. Startled cries rang out from around the room, but even before they had a chance to turn angry Hibari was already moving, downing man after man with little effort.

Guns clicked into life - the idiots hadn't even had their safety's off! - and the screaming cacophony of bullets being fired and thudding into solid targets filled the air. Hibari dodged rapidly, tonfa spinning occasionally to ward off those he wasn't fast enough to dodge. One taser managed to catch on the spikes, sending a shock up the metal - Hibari just sneered and slammed the herbivore through the wall with it, frying a hole is his expensive suit. Did they really think that after spending even the smallest amount of time with the idiot cow that he wouldn't have guarded himself against exactly that? You'd have to be suicidal to be in the Vongola with weapons that act like lightning rods if you didn't ensure you couldn't be hurt by them.

Left, right, tonfa to the stomach. Left, back. Right, tonfa to the head. Double hit to either side, dodge forward. Spin right tonfa, left into light stand to bring it down on-

Soon the room was still, the ring of unmoving bodies and destroyed furniture littered around the floor testament to Hibari's strength. Annoyed at how pathetic the whole famiglia was, Hibari flicked his tonfas to remove what blood he could before glancing around. He needed to clean up, but finding and removing all the mafioso from the building by himself would take forever and was far too troublesome.

Eh. That's what minions were for.

Two hours and a short phone call later and the local Vongola rookies had finally finished clearing the unconscious bodies from the building - all one hundred odd of them. Some had stared askance at the two dozen bodies draped over the bushes below the boss's office's window but had quickly moved on, knowing better than to question the Cloud Guardian. Best to leave it to the poor sod who had to sweat over whether or not to include in the incident report that Hibari had 'cleaned up' by chucking people out of second-floor windows.

Don Cuchillo himself was in a secure van on his way to CEDEF headquarters to be questioned. In a few days he'd be dropped off at the local police station by Haru - if there was one thing she had grown up to be good at it was espionage, what with her proclivity for costumes and disguises (which had, thankfully, become much more believable). That included entering enemy territory to drop off packages. Or rival bosses. Same thing, really, once she and Lussuria were done with them.

Hibari was the last person to the leave the enemy's mansion. He prowled through each room one last time, tonfa in hand, just in case they'd missed someone or something (all files and computer hard drives had been taken away for perusal by CEDEF. Basil was far better at dealing with information diplomatically and sensibly, rather than running off to destroy other famiglias at the slightest sign of betrayal, when compared to certain members of the Vongola).

On his way out, just before he stepped through the front door, Hibari caught sight of a softly gleaming light. It was barely noticeable where it was, hidden up in the corner of the room, but a mirror that had been shifted by the Vongola grunts earlier was now in just the right place for sun light to reflect from the window onto the camera's lens.

It was enough for Hibari. He stopped and frowned at the camera in distaste. Then, slowly, his lips quirked up and an unholy gleam came into his eyes. Smirking sadistically, Hibari turned away from the camera for a moment, purposefully hiding his actions. When he turned back a small hedgehog with fierce metal spikes was sitting in his palm, staring up at him adoringly. Hibari took a moment to give an almost-smile to the small creature then, quite deliberately, his hand moved from patting Roll's head to one of its spikes.

Time seemed to freeze as a small drop of blood squeezed from the tiny prick in Hibari's finger, dripping down onto the hedgehog's spike. Then, all chaos broke lose.

Roll screeched, soon joined by Hibird in a maddening cacophony of noise. The small creature began to grow, spikes surging outwards rapidly, the small body soon dwarfed by the metal. Just as it got too big for his palm Hibari gently set the hedgehog down on the ground, giving it a soft push towards the middle of the house. Roll stumbled, tottered forwards then, when it seemed to realise that it was growing and Hibari _wasn't running_, it shrieked and started to run away, soon switching to floating as its spikes got too big.

Hibird fluttered around Hibari's head for a moment, "Hedgehog destroy. Hedgehog destroy," chanting repeatedly in its high-pitched voice, and Hibari stood from his crouch, dusting small traces of rubble from his pants as he straightened. He smirked at the sounds of tearing wood and shattering glass from the next room over, glanced around once more and, bloody tonfas held by his sides, walked through the door.

* * *

It was three days later when the Cuchillo Famiglia's boss turned up on the steps of the local police station. As usual he was festooned in bows and ribbons, his hair dyed and styled and his face decorated with makeup. A small note was pinned to his suit, now edged with pink satin and smelling like a florist's:

'_Your fight is with us, not our family and friends. Bring innocents into it and we will show no mercy._

_-Vongola'_

The receptionist just sighed. Really, could the Vongola pick a worse time? There were trainees arriving in two days and the last thing they needed was a turf war when there was twenty new idiots running around the station.

_Oh well, not my problem. The big boys can run around playing cops and robbers while I stay here, safe and sound. _

And as she wandered inside to alert the Sergeant to the new arrival she smiled slightly.

_I _am_ just the secretary._

_*Cuchillo is italian for 'knife' (according to Google Translate at least). You may want to remember that. _


	3. The Right Hand and The Ghostly Assassin

_You people are amazing. Seriously - the response I've had to this fic is just- I love you guys. To everyone who has read, alerted, favourited and especially reviewed, thank you so much! I probably should be doing so many other things right now but I wanted to finish this chapter for everyone. :D_

_I was wondering, who would people like to see in this story? I've got a bit of a list of who will be appearing, but I'm open to suggestions. Who knows, maybe you'll spark something in my mind and you'll all get another chapter or two out of it. 8D Either way, let me know! I'm curious._

_Do you know how hard it is to use the western name order for these guys? I have to stop and think every time._

* * *

_**Last time:**_

"_The Vongola, ladies and gentlemen, is the craziest, most mind-boggling, most headache-inducing, most unbelievable, most paradoxical, most righteous and most moral criminal organisation you will ever hear of and, unfortunately, they're here to stay. You learn to work with them, or you go crazy. Or both."_

* * *

"Right," the Sergeant barked. The recruits (who were supposed to be the best and brightest of their year) had started muttering in confusion and even anger at his last pronouncement, some going so far as to yell questions at him. When they didn't quiet down the Sergeant growled, glared, then, as a last resort, slammed a fist into the wall beside him.

Instantaneous silence greeted his ears and the Sergeant grinned. "Let's move on to the next Guardian, shall we?"

Rifling through the papers in his briefcase again, the Sergeant eventually pulled one out. "Meet the Vongola Decimo's right hand man, Hayato Gokudera."

The photo was haphazardly pinned to the board with another magnet, slightly crooked, and drew the recruits' attention almost immediately. Narrowed eyes glared out at them, set over a mouth that was pinched around a cigarette. Four dynamites were clutched in one hand, the other raised in a rude gesture. The shot was candid, the hostility looking strangely false, as if more out of habit than actual threat, but it was enough to put some fear into the recruits. Anyone who would smoke while holding a bunch of dynamite was obviously insane, despite the fact he looked more like a delinquent teenager with a propensity for blowing stuff up than a true mafioso.

The Sergeant smirked at the recruits. They were underestimating Gokudera; they always did. It was one of the main reasons why he liked to use that photo.

"Gokudera's known as the Vongola's explosives expert. He'd made a name for himself in the mafia - 'Smoking Bomb Hayato' - even before he joined the Vongola, due to being from an old mafia family and having a bad temper. Among all of the Vongola, he's the best mid-range melee fighter - whether it's one or one hundred fighters, he'll take them all down in half the time you'd expect. He's designed and mastered several types of dynamite and can use them for everything from close-quarters destruction to long range assassinations. In other words, if you're up against him..." the Sergeant paused, grinning, loving how the recruits waited with baited breath, "attack hard and fast or run."

"_What?"_

The Sergeant scowled. It was that annoying brat from the back again- no, sorry, it was her neighbour. He would have to make sure to put them in their places if this continued. "The only way to survive a fight against Gokudera's to take him by surprise. He's a brilliant tactician but way too hotheaded - you stand a much better chance if you can make him act before he has time to think." The Sergeant glanced around, checking he had everyone's attention, and took a moment to glare at those two recruits in the back. "Hit him and run - get his attention then piss him off by turning it into a chase. If you give him a minute to plan and react - give him even a second - you're dead.

"You ain't safe in large numbers either. Just because he uses dynamite don't think you can wear him out. Hayato Gokudera's known as the Smoking Bomb because of the sheer amount of dynamite he carries around. No one knows how much he can store on himself but there've been a few cases where he's been caught by authorities and forced to remove all weaponry." The Sergeant smirked and dropped his voice to a dangerous growl. "Last time, he was pulled up at an airport with sufficient TNT to blow up the whole building and still have enough left over to fight his way out of the rubble."

That put the fear of god (or Vongola, in this case) into the recruits and the Sergeant grinned. No time like the present to give 'em a bit more, right?

"Moving on, next is a man known as the Rain Assassin. We think he's one of the younger members of the Vongola - most likely the same age as Gokudera and Sawada - but nothing is known about his true identity." The Sergeant saw the disbelief beginning to show on the recruits' faces and scowled. Did they not understand just how good these mafioso types were at keeping secrets? He rifled through his papers, pulling out a small pile and setting one sheet aside. "To illustrate just how... _frustrating_ this is, this," he flicked through the small stack, twenty or so pages fluttering briefly, "is our basic file on Hayato Gokudera, containing only the most important details and unclassified information." Dropping the stack carelessly, he snatched the single sheet from the desk and waved it in the air with an annoyed snap of his wrist. "This is the Vongola Rain Guardian's entire file, containing information from every intelligence and law enforcement office that've ever had the misfortune of running into him."

"It's always been assumed that there's many reasons why the Vongola are so careful in hiding their Rain Guardian's identity, including that he might hold a prominent position in society that they don't want to compromise." The Sergeant paused to let that sink in - to let the recruits realise just how much trouble they were in if that was true - then continued with a gleeful smirk. "The other reason is that whoever they are, the Rain Guardian's the Vongola Decimo's personal assassin, a job made much easier because no one knows who to suspect. He is, in essence, a ghost - no one sees him coming, no one sees him going and all that's left of where he's been is a trail of death and destruction."

"Ehhh..." That annoying voice from the back spoke up again - the original one this time, not her friend. "But if nobody knows who he is, are you sure he isn't just one of the others pretending to be another person?"

The Sergeant sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The number of times he had heard that exact argument... "No one else in the Vongola - the main branch, anyway - fights with a sword, and the Vongola have a tradition of the boss always having six guardians, each named after an element of the weather. Not having a Rain Guardian would be nontraditional and to the Vongola that would be... unacceptable."

"But doesn't the Vongola Decimo have seven guardians if you include the Rain and the two Mists?" Brat No. 2 piped up from the back row.

Incensed by having been interrupted - twice! - the Sergeant glared at her, his brain quickly noting and filing away how she stumbled over the Italian titles. "Our intel says that Vongola Decimo has six Guardians, though one - the Mist - is often represented by someone we assume to be a sibling." Glare doubling in strength and voice again dropping to a growl, he continued, "That means _nothing_ - _officially_ there are _six_ Guardians. Just because one is too shy to stand in the spotlight doesn't mean there's anything suspicious going on!"

"But-"

"DON'T QUESTION ME!" The Sergeant roared, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth as he slammed his hands down on the desk. "You are here to _learn_, not ask meaningless, idiotic and _infuriating_ questions that would be answered if you just waited!" Straightening back up, one hand rising to pinch and rub at the bridge of his nose again, the Sergeant took deep breaths as he tried to regain his composure. It was nice to have the recruits terrified of him - some of those nearest him (in other words, the front three rows) had scuttled backwards in their seats a little - but he hated losing his temper. The headaches it induced, not to mention the paperwork from broken desks and holes in walls, were so not worth it.

Damn recruits.

"Right. That's all for today." Immediately, books were slammed shut, stuffed into waiting bags along with the many pens and pencils, and chairs scraped against the floor as the recruits rushed to the door. "Don't be late on Wednesday!" The Sergeant yelled over the noise, brows creased in a frown. Yes, he was a mean old scary sergeant, but did they really have to be so damn eager? It did wonders for his ego when they got to the frozen-in-fear stage. If they still had the peace of mind to remember to run then he must be losing his touch. "Tardiness will be punished with door duty and docked marks, so be on time. Anyone who doesn't bring their full kit will get zero!"

His voice carried out of the room with the last couple of recruits and the Sergeant sighed. Oh well. If any of the idiots forgot about Wednesday, it would be their fault, not his. After all, there's no better way to learn than by experience. Or fear. Either worked rather well, he'd found.

Hopefully, Wednesday would be a bit of both.

* * *

On the other side of the city, reclining in an overly-stuffed throne-like chair, a figure smiled. With relief in his heart he set his mobile down on his desk and turned back to his paperwork, finally signing off on orders for the next stage to begin.

Just within reach, the bright screen of the small phone did what it could to push back the encroaching darkness of dusk, a message still visible on the screen.

'_Infiltration successful. Agents Day and Spring in place._

_We'll be home in time for dinner with a report. See you then Tsu-kun!'_


	4. Dynamite and Airports

_Because you are all such amazing people, I've decided to post this now rather than make you all wait a week for it like I had originally planned._

_Obviously, this isn't 'Wednesday'. A lot of people commented on that in the reviews - don't worry, that's the next chapter! This is actually part of what spawned this entire fic. This chapter is a variation of a oneshot I wrote a little while ago (hence why it's so long compared to the other chapters, oops), which I posted somewhere else. Just for the heck of it, if anyone knows where I originally posted it, the first person to tell me can request a oneshot. :D I need the practice writing, and I'm curious to know who might actually be able to guess it. 'Cause, honestly, if you know something that obscure you're a pretty amazing person. And no googling. D:_

_I read/write almost anything (though I've never written crack and don't think I'd do very well), so, yes. It's a **competition**!_

_**EDIT 27/07/12: **Well, not much has changed here. But the competition was won by Miyanoai, and her oneshot ("Army Uniforms and Psychotic Madmen") is now up on my profile, just in case anyone wants to read it. It features Tsuna in the Kokuyo uniform!_

* * *

The day started out fine. Gokudera had been given the mission by the Tenth yesterday, jumped on a plane to Australia two hours later, and finally read his paperwork during the flight.

There was, however, one little problem. Gokudera had left Japan via a private Vongola airbase. He had arrived in Australia via the very public Sydney Airport. Carrying his usual quota of dynamite.

Somehow, that made airport security think he was a terrorist.

Which lead to his current predicament.

When the initial alarm had gone off and Gokudera had been quickly surrounded by security guards, he had thought that someone had sent mercenaries to lie in wait for him at the airport. After several minutes of confused shouting in Japanese, Italian and English (not by Gokudera though. Tsuna had banned him from negotiating in English after the American ambassador debacle) someone thought to send for a translator, who then explained the issue – you couldn't just walk into a country with enough explosives on you to blow up a small building. Or a large one, if you were sparing enough.

Gokudera had stared, confused, at the poor woman for several minutes as he tried to gauge the possibilities of this _not_ being a set up, before deciding that explaining first, blowing up later was probably the best course of action.

Unfortunately, his argument that he had got on the plane carrying dynamite, so why couldn't he leave with it too, didn't go down so well. The security people seemed to be lost at how he had even boarded the plane in the first place, while Gokudera just wanted to _leave_, so he could finally complete his mission for the Tenth.

Which was why, when the translator lady had politely (and slightly shakily) asked him to, "Come with me so we can sort this all out," he had agreed. In hindsight, blowing the place up might have been a better idea.

He had been led to a small room where they took down his details – name, date and country of birth, passport number, why he was there (work, of course. Gokudera would never sully the name of Vongola by calling a mission a holiday, even undercover). They even scanned his fingerprints. Then came the first problem.

He didn't exist.

Of course, technically he did. But in preparation for this trip, Tsuna had gotten Giannini and Shouichi to find and delete every record of him that the airport security might find suspicious. That included the warrant currently out on his head, and most of his details. Unfortunately, the plane had landed half an hour early and, unknown to Gokudera, the two tech experts were yet to upload his new profile to the security database.

By this point the security people were in a panic. They had a potential terrorist with no identity carrying who-knew how many kilograms of dynamite. Gokudera, of course, was oblivious to the hushed conversation in the corner, as was he oblivious to the failed computer check they had just run. He just sat there, staring into space and contemplating how best to go about his mission once they finally let him go.

Next Gokudera was taken to a room with nothing but a solid metal table in the centre and a security cameras in every corner. The translator, her timid stuttering beginning to remind Gokudera of Tsuna back when they had first met, asked him to remove all the dynamite from his body and place it on the table. Gokudera froze, weighing the pros and cons of obeying, hopefully leaving the airport quicker and not causing a fuss (which the Tenth would prefer, he knew), or disobeying and having to deal with an entire airport full of people as he fought his way out. Eventually he grudgingly agreed, knowing that the peaceful option was what Tsuna would have expected of him.

Whatever the guards had expected, it was not what happened next. Gokudera had, despite the hot summer weather he was travelling towards, worn a long sleeve shirt, jeans and a zip-up hoodie. He removed the hoodie first, pulling the whole thing over his head, then shook it out over the table.

A good half a dozen sticks of dynamite fell out on the first shake, and another twenty or so were slowly added as Gokudera rooted around in every pocket (all eight of them), nook, cranny and hem of the jacket. Then he placed the jacket on one end of the table.

Next went two belts that had been slung diagonally across his chest, holding roughly another thirty dynamites each, in all different shapes and sizes, then the leather belt that had been around his waist. Two pouches, hidden on the inside of the belt and placed so that the extra space was taken up by the hollows of his hips, each contained a miniature dynamite and a small paper packet of plain gunpowder. The buckle also doubled as flint, should Gokudera ever need an emergency lighter, but he didn't see the point in telling the guards that.

Shoes were next, small dynamites being pulled from the toe, heel and four from the detachable sole. Both socks were shucked with little ceremony – apparently even Gokudera couldn't think of a way to fit more dynamite there, or at least couldn't be bothered – then Gokudera paused.

By this point, around a hundred dynamites lay on the table in front of Gokudera, and, frankly, the guards were scared for their lives. When he stopped, they had all breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that was it. Unfortunately for them, it wasn't.

"Is it alright for the ladies to be here?"

The translator jumped, lost in a daydream of the pay bonus she should get for this job, and stared at him in shock and incomprehension. "P-Pardon?"

Gokudera 'tch'ed and waved a dismissive hand at his torso. "The rest of the dynamite is under my clothes."

Silence stretched on for a moment as the lady tried to process Gokudera's statement. When, eventually, what he had said sunk in, she squeaked and ran from the room, dragging the only other female guard with her.

The men who were left behind stared after the door as it slammed shut, confusion and fear clear on their faces. _What_ had this strange terrorist said to cause the translator to run! Especially without explaining _why_ she was running.

Fortunately, they didn't have long to wait as Gokudera carelessly tugged his shirt off. Another belt was placed on the table, this time a type of cummerbund, placed around his waist to hide the shape of the dynamites. Added to the pile were two armbands, one from each wrist and each holding a couple of small dynamites, and an under-arm holder, carrying his newest invention, "Pistol Bomb" – similar to the Rocket Bombs, except that the second ignition fired the central, smaller bomb towards the enemy like a bullet. A gun without the worries of being caught by metal detectors, basically.

Next went Gokudera's pants - the lower half, at least. Gokudera unzipped the detachable-lower section to reveal several bands of dynamite, all cleverly hidden by the loose and heavy material. The explosive cylinders ranged from full size – four around each ankle – to the ten miniatures hidden on the band just below each knee. These were all added to the swiftly growing pile of dangerous goods on the table, before Gokudera finally removed his pants completely.

Boxers all that were left of his clothes, Gokudera placed the last few bands of dynamite onto the table, and stood to the side, a slight redness creeping over his face despite his neutral expression. He hoped that, now that he had complied with their demands, they would let him go. With his dynamite, preferably, though it wouldn't take him long to make a basic kit once he got in contact with the famiglia he was here to meet. He'd just have to be careful in the meantime.

The guards, meanwhile, were in shock. Roughly two hundred sticks of dynamite of every size, shape and description sat innocently on the table. Not one of them could even begin to comprehend how the young Mafioso had managed to hide so many explosives on himself, despite having just watched him remove them all. The logistics of it were insane. The danger to them, and indeed the entire airport, was massive. The shock to their minds, though, was preventing them from doing anything about it.

Luckily for them (and their jobs), the female guard the translator had dragged out with her had had the time to get over her (much lesser) shock, and had rung the airport management to order an evacuation and lock-down of the airport. At that very moment, as Gokudera returned to planning his mission and the guards tried to assimilate the knowledge that there _was_ someone in the world insane enough to use their own body as an explosives store, thousands of people were being rushed from the airport, security systems were being activated, and the local police, army, secret service and bomb squad were being called in.

A buzzing noise caused every guard in the small search room to jump, one of them eventually realising the noise was coming from his walkie-talkie. He answered, paling as the situation outside was explained to him, before replying with a short, "Yes sir." Silently bemoaning his lack of a translator, he gestured at the pile of Gokudera's clothes in what he hoped was an order to redress.

Relieved, Gokudera went to grab one of his leg-bands of dynamite, only to be stopped by a shout and frantic hand-waving and head-shaking. Gokudera stared (glared) at the guard for a moment, who quailed under the intense gaze, before sighing and moving to dress, minus his dynamite. It seemed they wouldn't let him keep his weapons.

Back into the first room Gokudera was led. He sat in the same chair as before, opposite a guard with a computer and the translator, and answered the same questions all over again. Once again, Gokudera gave the same replies, and again the computer check failed to recognise him, the system having been shut down when the security alarm was triggered, unwittingly blocking Shouichi's now frantic attempts to update Gokudera's profile.

Ten minutes later, having been asked the same questions in different ways several times each and being stuck in a room with a snappy, obviously-stress and annoyed guard and a timid translator who was shaking in fear and trying not to cry, Gokudera was losing his patience.

So, in a split-second decision that was the only non-violent alternative Gokudera could think of, he reached across the desk and snatched up the phone that had been sitting in a tray beside the computer. The translator squeaked and the guard gave an indignant-sounding yell that might have been an order to freeze, or stop, or something along those lines. But Gokudera ignored them.

It was the work of only a few seconds to bring up the Tenth's number, then Gokudera slammed the phone back down on the desk.

"Ring that number. They'll explain everything."

The translator stared at him in shock, jabbering out a quick translation when the guard snarled a question at her. The guard, in turn, stared at the phone, then grabbed his walkie talkie and rattled off a quick query. The answer that came back was fuzzy, but he seemed to understand. He snapped at the translator again and, unwillingly, she picked up the phone.

The loud sound of ringing filled the small room, continuing on for almost a minute before:

"Moshi moshi. Sawada Tsunayoshi speaking."

The translator blinked, surprised at the young-sounding voice on the other end (having expected a middle-aged boss), before collecting herself as best as she could.

"Ah, hai. I'm from the security detail at Sydney International Airport. We're currently interviewing a young man – a… G-Gokudera Hayato." Here she glanced at said teen, bit back an 'eep' at his glare, and shakily continued, "He was arrested by security for the possession of… a l-lot of d-dynamite. We have been questioning him for quite some time now, but as he… doesn't turn up on our database, it is hard to, ah, decide what to do with him. He suggested ringing you, so, if you have anything that could…help us…"

There was silence on the other line for a minute, before a breathy laugh sounded. "Goku-Gokudera? He… what-" The voice cut itself off (Gokudera tensed, waiting for the verbal punishment he surely deserved for letting these people bug the Tenth – why did he think this was a good idea!), then continued with a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, I hope he hasn't been too much trouble. Well, I guess…"

The translator twitched as the voice trailed off into muttering, flinching when she chanced a look at the crazy terrorist and saw a maniacal gleam in his eyes that she hadn't seen there before. Scared, stressed and just generally so _over_ this entire situation, she rushed out, "Is there anything you could tell us that would help? He doesn't show up on any of our records, and carrying that much explosive is… highly suspicious."

"Ah, well, I… I really don't know…" Silence for a moment more, then there was a muffled yell – something that sounded like a name, despite the hand covering the mouthpiece – and muttered conversation that could be heard as nothing more than mumbles.

Eventually, the voice came back, apologetic laughter ringing throughout it. "Sorry, I was just- yeah, anyway. I'm not the best person to be talking to." There was more muffled conversation in the background – a quiet shout and a thud – before the Tenth continued, "I can give you a number though – tell them Tsuna sent you, and that you're looking for Iemitsu Sawada. Dad should be able to sort this all out. That alright?"

The translator, lost in trying to figure out what was happening, and still in shock from everything that had happened that day, stuttered out an agreement before she could think about it. She reflexively grabbed a pen and paper when Tsuna started rattling off numbers at her – briefly surprised when she realised it wasn't an Australian or Japanese number – and muttered a quick thanks in response to the Tenth's, "Alright. Bye. And sorry!"

Silence filled the tiny room once the Tenth had hung up; Gokudera was inwardly berating himself for causing trouble for the Tenth, the translator was still trying to process just what had happened and the guard was waiting, rather impatiently, for someone to tell him what was going on.

Eventually, the translator passed the message on to the guard who snapped at her to just ring the bloody number already.

Barely two seconds after the translator dialled the number the ringing stopped.

"_Ciao. Lal Mirch da CEDEF."_

The translator froze, lost. "Uh… hello?"

There was a sigh and a brief, frustrated sounded muttering, then, "Hello. Who are you and what do you want?"

The guard had perked up at the sound of English, the voice echoing in the small room. He glared at the phone, then at the translator when she didn't respond fast enough.

"Ah, hello. I'm from the security detail at Sydney International Airport. A few hours ago we arrested a, uh, Gokudera Hayato? He gave us a number but when we rang they passed us on to you." The translator fumbled with the paper she had been jotting notes on. "He said to ask for Iemitsu Sawada?"

Silence. The translator stared at Gokudera as the guard stared at her and Gokudera stared at his clenched hands, still berating himself for troubling the Tenth. Finally, sick of waiting, the translator hesitantly mumbled, "Hello? Are you-"

"Who gave you this number?"

The voice, sharp and low pitched, made the guard sit up and narrow his eyes. _They_ sounded dangerous. The translator, in contrast, squeaked and dropped her notes. "Ah- That would be… um- Tsuna?"

There was an intake of breath on the other end of the line, then the sounds of a muffled conversation and a brief fight over the phone. Soon enough, a new voice was answering the phone, politely rambling away, a computer clicking in the background.

"Master Sawada sent you, miss? I apologise for the curt greeting, but security is tight here. Now, how can I help you…"

So it was that in the end, all was well. Basil arrived the next day via a private Vongola jet, papers confirming Gokudera's position as an explosives expert at the Vongola Ore Mine, Italy, in hand. Gokudera got to continue his mission, albeit a day late, and returned home in the Vongola jet three days later, having left from a private air field to prevent a repeat of the earlier security bungle.

Shouichi and Tsuna were anxiously waiting for Gokudera when he returned home, both taking the time to impress upon Gokudera that he was now an internationally wanted criminal and that he had to be more careful. Gokudera grovelled at the Tenth's feet for a good hour before Tsuna was able to distract him with a mission (tracking down Lambo and Ipin for dinner), and everything returned to normal.

Tsuna tried to assure himself that the lesson had sunk in, for all his Guardians.

It didn't really work.


	5. Collating the Reports

_**EDIT 27/07/12:** The text here was originally chapter six, but I realised in my editing that the timeline would make a lot more sense if I switched them, so here we are! The AN below is from the original chapter **six**:_

_**Hello again everyone!** It's been a little while, hasn't it? But my exams are over (thank you to everyone would wished me luck! I think it helped. :D) and I'm on holidays for the next month._

_So many people have been suggesting characters I should write in, and you're giving me so many ideas but I have no idea how to incorporate them all. In the original plan this fic was only meant to be 8-10 chapters! Now I'm not sure if I'll be under 12, if I can work out to fit in everything I want. This chapter finally focuses on **Tsuna**, though it's not the much-asked-for Tsuna-Police scene. Sorry!_

_This is actually not my favourite chapter, though it's late (/early) here so I've done little in the way of editing apart from spell-check and a quick skim read. Apologies for any mistakes! I just really wanted to get this out so people could read it and so I can get started on the next chapter. **Guess who appears next!**_

_Anyway, I'll stop rambling. Many thanks to everyone who's read, favourited, alerted and especially reviewed! I love you all. :D Enjoy!_

* * *

Tsuna groaned as he shuffled a stack of papers and placed them to the side in the 'out' tray, dropping his pen so that he could stretch his fingers. Whoever invented paperwork was obviously in league with the devil. Or Mukuro. Who knew with that one.

Muttering under his breath about the unfairness of life, Tsuna cast a glance around his office and barely held back another groan. He'd just completed three stacks of paperwork concerning the Vongola's legal investments, their more legally-dubious trading agreements and the construction of the Japanese base, but there was still four more stacks to go, including the ones containing the details of the annual Mafia Ball and his Guardians' latest orders. He was guessing that another was about Hibari's latest mission which, unsurprisingly, had been a complete success, and that the last was about the mess that was Gokudera's recent trip. Which, unfortunately, had not gone at all like it should have.

Speaking of Gokudera, Tsuna still hadn't seen the transcript of the audio from the hidden microphone his Storm Guardian had unknowingly been carrying around the entire duration of his mission. Basil had promised to send it through the usual channels as soon as possible but it still hadn't arrived-

A knock at Tsuna's office door had him quickly straightening in his seat, pulling a folder from the nearest stack and flicking it to a random page to make it look like he had been working. "Come in."

_Speak of the devil. _

Gokudera poked his head around the doorway, expression cautious. Tsuna was well known for taking any chance possible to escape paperwork and Gokudera wasn't about to be tricked into giving him a reason to take a break if he was in the middle of something.

Pleased by the fact that it looked like Tsuna was just finishing up a stack, Gokudera swept into the room, a box of folders in his arms, and sketched a quick but polite bow in front of Tsuna's desk.

"Tenth," the Storm Guardian said, his lips fighting a smile. "How are you?"

"Tired," Tsuna moaned, trying to coerce some pity from his right-hand man. All he got was a knowing look and Tsuna slumped in his chair, sulking. Seriously, his Guardians were meant to _help_ him, not force him to endure the never ending hell called paperwork. "What do you have for me, Hayato?"

Said Guardian blushed, still not used to his boss calling him by his first name even after the couple of years since Tsuna had started. "Just some summary reports, Tenth," he said, lifting the box onto a clear corner of Tsuna's desk. "Nothing that needs your signature, but we thought you'd like to check them over before they're filed away."

Tsuna nodded and reached for the first folder, glad of the rest from writing. While true that Gokudera could have double-checked the reports for him, despite it already having been done by Basil, reading his Guardians' mission summaries was one of the few aspects of his paperwork that Tsuna actually enjoyed and Gokudera was loathe to take that from him.

A few minutes passed in silence, Tsuna quickly skim reading the report and occasionally reacting to some of the comments with a frown, a smile or even a soft snort of laughter. Eventually Tsuna leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he contemplated the report.

"Hibari really knows how to go all out, doesn't he."

Gokudera smirked and leaned against the desk, reading the file from where Tsuna had dropped it open on the desk. "Admittedly this was personal, and you did give him permission to do whatever it took to get the information and to make our point."

Tsuna grinned. "Still, destroying the entire mansion was a bit of an overkill. I probably shouldn't be surprised, what with their attacks on Vongola _and _Foundation, and I don't really mind since the Cuchillo Family was being such a pain anyway, but it's going to cause problems. We're going to have half the mafia and the police breathing down our necks, trying to find out how we destroyed the place so easily without bombs. On top of the 'mysterious' note Haru left." Glancing down at the report once more, Tsuna raised questioning eyes to Gokudera. "Why did she use that wording anyway? I know I said to give them something to think about but that's..."

The Right Hand just shrugged, reaching down to close the folder and push it to the side, figuring they were done with it. "The idiotic woman probably thought it was nice and _romantic_ or some bullshit."

Chuckling, Tsuna grabbed the next folder in the box and grinned when he saw the pink card decorated with swirling cursive. He glanced through it, barely bothering to read the report since the girls had been in just yesterday to brief him personally, and had to laugh as he carefully removed all the side-note post-its that had been scattered throughout the pages of dry recitation. "I'd love to see the archivist's face if he ever gets one of these before I've been through it."

Gokudera grinned madly. "The old stick-in-the-mud would probably have a heart attack." After a moment's consideration he tried to hide his evil smirk and turned puppy-dog eyes on his boss. "Can I?"

Tsuna laughed again and shook his head. "You just want to get revenge for all those times he's forced you to find files yourself when he's been busy. I'm hardly going to allow you to punish him for doing his job."

"Tch." Gokudera's eyes shifted to stare at a corner of the room, his turned face doing little to hide his blush. "If the Tenth insists."

The Tenth smiled at his predictable Right Hand before finally turning back to the file in front of him with a small frown. "I'm glad the girls' mission is going well. I was quite worried. They're closer to the enemy than any of us have ever attempted before, and they've only got half the experience Yamamoto or you have. I'm almost waiting for something to go wrong."

"Don't worry, Tenth!" Gokudera dashed around the desk to grab Tsuna's hands from the desk, catching the complete attention of his surprised boss. "They've both been trained extensively by Reborn, Yamamoto and Sis, and you know we would never have let them go if they weren't ready." Quickly reaching into the box to pull out the bottom folder, uncaring of how the ones above it fell to the floor, Gokudera pressed the sheaf of papers into Tsuna's hand. "Plus, the Shimon Guardians are all in position and Enma will be taking up his role tomorrow, so if something goes wrong we'll have plenty of people on standby. Everyone's orders state that no matter what their priority is to get the girls out first. So please don't worry Tenth!"

Tsuna sighed and quickly flicked through the folder, smiling softly at the almost constant handwriting changes where one of Enma's Guardians had decided to interject something they considered important. "I know, Gokudera. But even though my Hyper Intuition isn't saying anything bad, I can't help but worry. If something happened to one of the girls..."

"If it's such a problem, Tenth, I could go check on them myself! Or we could add the idiot cow to the surveillance detail - there's an arcade across the street that he could use for cover."

"Gokudera-"

"Or we could send in the baseball freak and lawn head- No, Lawn Head's got a mission starting in three days, so he's out..."

"Gokudera!"

"We could send in the Varia, though it might be hard to get them cover stories. Those bastards don't know the meaning of 'discrete'. Or we could-"

"Hayato!"

Jumping at the use of his first name, Gokudera immediately focused on the Tenth, previous line of thought forgotten. "Yes, Tenth?"

Tsuna smiled at his most loyal Guardian, amused and warmed by Gokudera's obsession with pleasing him. "It's alright, we don't need anyone else on surveillance. The Shimon will do fine by themselves. I'm just being a worry-wart."

Gokudera's eyes flitted around as if searching Tsuna's body language for any sign of uncertainty before settling on the floor between them. "If the Tenth is sure..."

Nodding, Tsuna reached down to grab the folders that had fallen on the floor, ignoring Gokudera's spluttered apologies and flying hands as he attempted to help, then carefully collated them with the folders on his desk, pushing the unread few to the side. Dropping the read folders back into the box, Tsuna picked up Yamamoto's latest report from the small remaining pile and skim read it quickly with a smile. Apparently the girls were doing fine - though he'd read their report, it was nice to be told it by an outsider - and Lambo had, for once, managed to pull off a mission without any problems. Not that this had been a particularly difficult one, but he probably deserved some kind of reward, even if only to promote success in the future...

"Tenth?"

Tsuna snapped back to the present to see Gokudera staring at him with concern. He just let a smile take its customary place on his face and took the last report from the pile, slipping Yamamoto's folder back into the box.

Glancing down at the familiar manilla folder, Tsuna felt the beginnings of a frown form on his face. He knew what this folder contained and, honestly, he didn't need to read the file. He had spent the last few days trying to work out how he could have made this mission go better. In the end he always came up with the same answer - he could have been clearer, but really it wasn't his fault.

Actually, while he was thinking about it...

"Gokudera. About your mission last week."

Hearing the serious tone Gokudera had straightened up but he immediately dropped into a deep bow when he realised what Tsuna was talking about.

"Tenth, I must apologise for the trouble I caused you. I know I should have thought through my actions more, but I was distracted by categorising and planning against the possible risks of the mission. I feel nothing but deep shame for having committed such a rookie mistake on a mission as important as that one, and will take any punishment you deem necessary." Gokudera hesitated a second but when no reply was forthcoming he dropped to his knees the Tenth's chair, puppy-dog eyes in full force once again, hands clutched together. "Please, Tenth, I am so sorry! I can't believe I caused such a problem for you! I'm truly not worthy of being your Right Hand Man. If you wish it I shall immediately make preparations to commit sepuku. I do not deserve to live-"

Soft laughter interrupted Gokudera's rant, and he could only stare in surprise and hope as Tsuna doubled over, one hand clutching his stomach as the merriment continued to escape him.

After a minute or so Tsuna finally slumped back in his chair, one hand raising to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes. "Ah, Gokudera. Please, never change."

"Tenth?" Gokudera's expression contorted into confusion, but Tsuna just waved it off and gestured for Gokudera to stand as he turned back to his desk.

Tsuna flicked open the folder sitting there, skipping through the text as quickly as possible. Eventually he leaned back and rubbed a hand across the bridge of his nose, frown not quite there but barely hidden behind the slightly-furrowed brows.

"Please explain how a mission designed for us to test our notoriety overseas became a full blown rescue mission?"

The Storm Guardian had the sense to blush, but quickly tried to hide his embarrassment behind a professional facade. "I was distracted by revising my contingency plans in case I was caught and I forgot to remove my dynamite before landing in Australia."

"Nobody at our Italian airbase thought to mention it to you?"

"The mission was top secret, Tenth. No one knew where I was going except the pilot."

"Surely someone mentioned it as you were coming in to land in Australia?" Tsuna prodded, that frown finally returning.

"I remember someone handing me a list of items that were prohibited on Australian planes, but it didn't say anything about explosives so they slipped my mind."

"You couldn't come up with some lie to explain away the situation? The report says that you didn't use English, even though I know you're fluent."

Gokudera gave his boss an odd look and shook his head. "No, Tenth. I remembered what you said after that last trip to America - how I should avoid using the language in delicate situations because of my proclivity for swearing - so I kept to Japanese and Italian."

Tsuna barely held in a groan. It looked like an honest mistake. But, seriously. If it were any normal person they might have been pulled up for carrying too much on-board liquids or a nail file. Instead, Gokudera manages to get caught by the random bomb check and then divest himself of a record amount of dynamite, all while being completely oblivious to the chaos he is causing.

"So in other words, instead of leaving from a private airport here in Italy, handing your dynamite to a crew member to be smuggled through security, going through airport security as a civilian to test whether or not they would recognise you, leaving the airport and _then_ getting your weaponry back, you managed to trigger an airport-wide terrorism alert and evacuation and then need to be rescued by CEDEF. Correct?"

Blushing madly, entire body screaming embarrassment and guilt, Gokudera just nodded his head.

Tsuna stared down at the report in his hands, utterly defeated. The one time he tried to get one of his Guardians to be discrete - to be _normal_ - and they utterly failed. Why did he have the feeling that was going to become a recurring nightmare?

"Next time, Gokudera," Tsuna said, slipping the folder back into the box and pushing the whole thing towards his Right Hand, "please try to remember the mission specs a bit better. I chose you for that particular mission because of the need for discretion and careful planning, which you normally excel at. Your little slip up could have caused us a lot of problems though, so I'm afraid I will have to warn you to be more careful in the future."

Gokudera nodded, eyes still downcast even as he carefully picked up the box of reports. "Yes, Tenth. Is that all?"

"Yes." Tsuna nodded and pulled a stack of papers down to him, picking up his pen again with a reluctant hand. "Basil has requested help with some missions that were delayed because of his trip - perhaps you could go help."

Though purposefully left open, Tsuna knew his comment would be taken as a command and even as a roundabout punishment, and he had to hide a smile as he saw Gokudera perk up at a chance to redeem himself. "Of course Tenth! Everything is all set up for the girls so I don't have much to do at the moment. I'll go there right away and volunteer my aid!"

Ah, to hell with hiding. Tsuna gave Gokudera a full smile, letting it grow in answer to Gokudera's own obvious happiness at - apparently - having pleased his boss. "Thank you Hayato. I'll see you at dinner?"

Gokudera was grinning as he dashed for the door, pausing in the frame to throw back an, "Of course, Tenth!" and then he was gone, leaving behind a calmness that Tsuna had long since realised was only temporary in the never-ending and recurring storm that was his life.

As the door clicked shut Tsuna sighed and let his head drop down onto the desk with a soft _thump_, mind absently replaying the conversation. Honestly, you would think that a genius strategist who had been raised in the mafia would have a better understanding of how to travel safely than the others. But, no. Apparently that was another thing to add to the list of what Gokudera utterly failed at, among controlling his temper, calling Tsuna anything but his title and not being an overzealous, over-protective and overly-paranoid bastard. Well, at least now he knew that for the future.

_Note to self: Next time I need a mission to be done _discretely_, send Ryohei. _

* * *

Half an hour later a confused archivist stared at the box of files on his desk then double checked the paperwork that had come with it. Finally, resigned and used to such things by now, he shrugged and moved to file away the new reports, ignoring the list that clearly stated that there should have been two more in the box. One containing specific information gained from Kyouya Hibari's recent raid and another which included the transcript of the small microphone Gokudera had worn while in Australia. Both from CEDEF's chief Basil, and both missing.

Still, it wasn't like these things didn't happen. The archivist knew that all reports went through the Tenth before they were delivered to him so he assumed that the Boss had swiped those two files for further perusal. It was, after all, a habit of the Tenth's to do so. The first few times the archivist had been alarmed, thinking someone had stolen the files, but he knew the procedure well enough by now that it didn't worry him in the slightest. He'd write out a note, but more than likely the reports would be sitting on his desk tomorrow morning, just like always. And he'd file them away without complaint, just like always.

A siren rang out from somewhere above in the Vongola mansion but the archivist ignored it, puttering away into the back corners of the vast filing room, passing the records of the first nine Vongola bosses without batting an eyelash. He filed away the reports he had, leaving the appropriate space for the two misplaced ones, then puttered back to his desk to update the filing records. Nothing that happened above his underground sanctuary, from missing files to sudden alarms, mattered to him. His job was simply to keep a record of the Vongola's activities throughout the centuries; nothing more, nothing less.

And if the heads of the Vongola and CEDEF wanted to keep some secrets between themselves, that was fine with him too. He was just the archivist after all.


	6. Of Explosions, Civilians and Mafia Men

_**EDIT 27/07/12:** Same as last chapter - they got switched. AN below is from the original chapter **five**:_

_**HELLO AGAIN!** It's been a while, hasn't it? ^-^;; Apologies for making everyone wait. I'm in my uni exam block at the moment and the study has been killing me for the last couple of weeks. Plus, thanks to all your amazing reviews, I've been trying to rethink IWC's plot a little to make it longer for you all._

_I also discovered a massive plot hole halfway through this chapter. Many thanks to** Yuu3** for giving me an idea to fix it and to **FireFallAngel **and** Miyanoai** for their help with coming to a final decision, though I'm yet to explain to them just what it was that they helped with. xD Also, kudos to Miyanoai for winning the oneshot - that'll be up in the next couple of weeks hopefully! - and to Fire for giving me the perfect idea of how to end the fic (when I finally get there). And, lol, **Aya-chan's Alice** - you've got that idea stuck in my head now! Hopefully this will tide you over until I write that oneshot. :D_

_Not my favourite chapter ever but I did take a two week holiday in the middle of writing it. ^-^;; (Not a good idea. At all.)_

_Anyway, enjoy everyone! I'm not sure who the next chapter will focus on but I'm thinking it's Tsuna's turn. I've sorta been leaving him out a bit, haven't I..._

* * *

"Line up! Last one in line carries my pack."

The recruits, who until now had been milling around the shopping street like lost sheep, hastily stepped up in front of the Sergeant. No one had forgotten the lesson this morning - one poor soul had been late, and had been promptly locked out of the station, getting an automatic fail for the day's lesson. A lesson nobody had been briefed on yet.

The Sergeant stalked back and forth in front of the line of recruits, a wide smirk on his face. None of them knew it, but today didn't have a plan. There was no point in one considering they were spending the day in Vongola territory - any plan would quickly get chucked out the window when the Vongola turned up so why should he bother spending all that time making one when he could be doing better things? They'd see what happened and go from there.

"Right. You lot," the Sergeant said as he waved a hand at a good half of the recruits, making them shuffle nervously, "are going with Junior there." A young cop, looking like he'd just graduated from the academy himself, gave them a shaky smile from where he was standing a few feet behind the Sergeant. "Everyone else," the Sergeant continued, "is coming with me.

"Today's activity is simple - walk. If you find anything that might need intervention, you speak up and everyone discusses it. If it's serious, call in the local cops. If it's life-threatening or the Vongola," the Sergeant paused and grinned wickedly, "feel free to have a go _and_ call the cops. Otherwise, you're observing. That's it."

"Why are you holding us back from the easy jobs but letting us go against the Vongola?" a soft voice spoke up from the far end of the line and the Sergeant wished he had a wall to bang his head against. Somehow, despite making a note to _not_ do it the other day, the two brats from the briefing were in his group. Why? _Why _couldn't he have remembered them earlier? He would have given the idiots to Junior instead.

"Because," the Sergeant growled, "when it's the Vongola, the earlier you apprehend them and the more people you use, the better the chance you'll actually succeed. Even newbies like yourself can be useful in distracting those psychos until the cops can get there."

The recruits stared at him in surprise, though some also looked slightly affronted, and the Sergeant decided to head off any potential confrontations before they could begin. Indignant recruits were useless recruits, and that's what they'd be if he was forced to explain just how useless they were.

Giving a brusque nod to the slightly-shaking Junior, the Sergeant turned to leave. Setting a brisk pace he barked over his shoulder, "Group up and follow your leader, kiddies. We've got some streets to patrol!"

It took twenty minutes, three discussions, two trips down the main street and five alleys before anything happened. The recruits were just starting to get bored, having not seen anything even remotely suspicious in almost ten minutes, but the silence was putting the Sergeant on edge. It was like when you walked through a forest and suddenly everything went dead silent. It was like the calm before a storm. It was like the drawback of the sea before a tsunami. It was like-

_BOOM_

-the Vongola.

The recruits all jumped, a couple even screamed, but the Sergeant just sighed. As the kids all spun around in circles, desperately trying to spot the source of the explosion, the Sergeant kept walking. He had heard the sounds of explosions enough to recognise that one as a grenade. Which meant there was either some new idiot in town or someone had just pissed off the Vongola's Lightning Guardian.

Marching toward the scene of the explosion, the lingering smoke marking the place well enough even a block away, the Sergeant squared his shoulders and settled his fiercest scowl onto his face. As the recruits scrambled to follow he made himself a promise - no matter what insanity that bloody Famiglia were up to now, he wouldn't back down. The lack of respect in the younger generations was bad enough as it was. There was no way in hell he was going to lose face in front of the recruits.

The Sergeant glanced back to check his group was following him, then turned to leave the small alleyway they'd used as a shortcut. He took in the scene with a glance - Vongola Storm Guardian running down the street yelling, dynamite in hand; random guy using the cheering Sun Guardian as a crutch as he laughed; female Mist Guardian standing just off to the side, impassive as usual - and opened his mouth to start issuing orders when-

"Gyahahaha! The Great Lambo strikes again!"

Groaning, the Sergeant raised a hand to rub the newly-sore spot on the back of his head, his eyes skittering around as he tried to process what had just happened. He'd been standing there, a step from the ally and then... Oh.

"Oi, you stupid cow! Don't go knocking people over! What'll you do if someone sues the Tenth again, huh?"

"Dame-Tsuna will pay for it and Lambo will get off free, of course!"

"You-!"

The Sergeant watched wearily as the Vongola's Lightning Guardian - almost ten, yet still with the mentality of a hyperactive five year old - ran circles around him several times before dashing off just before the Storm Guardian could catch him. Gokudera chased after him, dynamites in hand and mouth spewing insults and profanities in several languages, and the Sergeant watched them go with a sigh of resignation, ignoring the clamoring, hovering recruits behind him.

"Maa, are you alright?"

The voice made the Sergeant jump in shock, his head whipping around to stare at the approaching man, the other Vongola Guardians not far behind. The recruits watched him with suspicious stares but didn't move to intervene as the stranger held out a hand to the Sergeant who, after a moment of careful evaluation, grasped it as he got to his feet.

"Who are you?"

The man laughed softly, apparently not put off by the Sergeant's brusque tone or question, and let a bright grin stretch across his face as he raised one hand in a jaunty salute. "Takeshi Yamamoto, at your service. My apologies for Lambo. He doesn't think about others very often."

The Sergeant narrowed his eyes at the man, thoughts whirling through his head at a mile an hour. His name was obviously foreign - Japanese, most likely - and he was hanging around with the Vongola's upper echelon. Moreover, he looked vaguely familiar, though not in an internationally-wanted-criminal way. Who on earth...?

Hoping to pull at least a little information from this new source, the Sergeant attempted to soften his tone slightly. "It's no problem." Flashing his badge, despite the fact that his uniform should have been enough to clue this Yamamoto into who he was, he continued, "I heard the explosion earlier and came to investigate. If you know anything...?"

Yamamoto blinked slowly, confusion etched onto his face, before suddenly it cleared and he was grinning like a loon again. "Oh, you mean when Lambo threw that toy grenade at Gokudera? That was pretty loud, wasn't it! Lambo has such realistic toys. It even flashed light and everything!"

It was the Sergeant's turn to blink in surprise, his eyes flickering over the smiling Sun Guardian and the stoic Mist Guardian, then down the street to where the Vongola's Storm and Lightning had disappeared around the corner. As far as he could tell the grinning idiot was a civilian who somehow knew the Vongola Guardians - most likely from their school days, if his guess on the Japanese heritage was correct - and there was no way he was going to put a civilian in danger by revealing anything about the mafia.

"Ah, so that's what it was." The Sergeant gave a tight smile and slipped a card from his pocket, offering it to the man with another surreptitious glance at the Guardians behind him. "Well, if you ever see or hear something strange, make sure to call. Toys are well and good, but it'd be dangerous if anyone started messing with the real thing."

The man grinned and gave him another salute. "Will do! I hope you have a nice day." He smiled at the recruits who were still milling around in the alley's mouth like lost sheep. "It was nice meeting you all!"

Watching the smiling idiot run back to the Guardians who then left to follow the Lightning and Storm at a much more sedate pace, the Sergeant had to hold in another groan. He'd had four of the six - _seven_ - Vongola Guardians in his hand and he'd had to let them go because of one bloody civilian. Not only that, but he now had a class of recruits who probably thought he was an idiot for being knocked on his ass by a kid and who were too stupid to have noticed his attempt at getting a mole within the Vongola family, and his head hurt were he'd banged it against the ground.

This day was quickly becoming a headache, both physically and metaphorically. And he still had four and a half hours to go.

Someone just shoot him now.


	7. A Healthy Dose of Fear

_**Hello! **It's been a while, hasn't it. I hate the fact that I took so long to sort everything out, but hopefully it was worth it! The story has gained a good 1000 words in edits and extra scenes and this chapter alone is something like 4300 words. It also covers the rest of the Guardians!_

_Frankly, this chapter hated me. Lambo was being a little brat, Enma was being awkward, Mukuro and Chrome were being evil and the girls were being just plain annoying. But! I persevered, and now it is done! And I can finally get onto writing the next few chapters which are going to be so much fun._

_As a little teaser, the next chapter will be a Guardian mission, except this time it's Lambo's turn. And he finds the Big Red Button._

_Sorry to those who thought they'd be getting a full chapter about Enma - it's not his time to shine just yet, unfortunately. But he'll be back! Oh, yes, he'll be back. Oh, and yes, Enma's name is weird here. Don't worry, that's on purpose! All will be explained. Eventually._

_Yet another point (I have so much to say after not posting for so long...) but as I post this chapter we have 182 reviews, 492 faves and alerts and 14,699 views. Um. Thank you? -faints-_

_May I just say: the Sergeant is an idiot._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Eyes flitting around the room, quickly cataloguing everyone and what they were doing, the Sergeant grinned as he stepped through the doors of the police station. It was a beautiful morning, Junior's team was taking some guy through to the holding cells, and he had a class of idiots arriving in half an hour that he couldn't wait to tortur-

Train. Yes, that he couldn't wait to train.

Still grinning, pleased at the pathway that quickly opened for him, the Sergeant sauntered over to the front desk. It was empty, but that wasn't too much of a surprise. The chit who usually played secretary was always running off to suck up to someone or another. He reached over to rifle through the folders there, curious to see what had come in during the night-

"Excuse me."

The Sergeant jerked up, head almost colliding with the hand that had been extended to him. He stared, confused and slightly in shock, at the red-haired guy standing behind the desk who was regarding him with a rather bland expression. He was in uniform, so obviously he belonged in the station, but he was no one the Sergeant had ever seen before.

"Who are you?"

The boy - because surely he couldn't be older than half the recruits! - cocked his head at the rudely spat question and slowly lowered his hand. "Cozart... Enma."

_Right. Surname sounds foreign. Let's just stick to the Italian part of it._

Still rather confused, the Sergeant glanced around, trying to find that brat of a receptionist.

"Are you looking for Maria?"

"You've seen her?" the Sergeant snapped back, beginning to lose his patience. Seriously, what was with this kid? He took half an hour to say anything and his voice was barely more than a whisper.

The boy seemed to consider his answer for a minute while the Sergeant stewed, slowly growing angry. Finally, Cozart shrugged. "She's sick. I got called in to replace her."

The Sergeant glared. "I've never seen you before."

Looking down, Cozart started shuffling the papers on the desk. "The substitute got food poisoning three days ago."

"And they're both too sick to come in? Either of them?"

"I was told the substitute is in hospital and Maria is bedridden because of some rare disease."

Growling, the Sergeant swore under his breath. Of all the times for both receptionists to get sick, it just had to be when the recruits were in training.

"I'm sorry sir. I know I'm not anyone you're used to working with but I hope we'll get along-"

"Oh shut up." The Sergeant leaned over the desk, towering as best he could with a large block of wood in his way. "Do your job and hopefully I won't have to deal with you, understood?"

The red head stared at him for a moment, head cocked to one side slightly, then nodded. "Understood sir."

The Sergeant stormed off, a frown on his face and a thundercloud hanging over his head. Seriously, this was not his week. Monday he'd taught the first of two lectures on the Vongola to the idiotic recruits who probably hadn't comprehended even the slightest degree of just how insane those mafia bastards were. Tuesday he had, officially, had a day off but had been called in when the alert had gone out that their serial murderer had struck again and had ended up pulling a late night chasing clues all across the city. Wednesday he'd been humiliated in front of the recruits by those damned Vongola Guardians, who he had been forced to let go because of the stupid civilian idiot. And now, Thursday, he was back to teaching the dunderheaded recruits information that they probably wouldn't bother to believe or retain until it was too late.

At least tomorrow was a day off. The shooting range sounded good...

Striding into the classroom, glaring around at the gathered recruits, the Sergeant felt a small, evil smirk take over his face. If for nothing else, at least the recruits were good for anger management.

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!"

The few recruits who didn't jump dropped or knocked over something and the Sergeant felt a small flare of satisfaction in his heart. His smirk only grew as the recruits scrambled for their seats and materials, dead silent, and turned attentive, if not slightly fearful, eyes on him.

Oh the power of intimidation.

"Right," the Sergeant barked out. "Due to our little... incident yesterday, we're going to start with the youngest of the Vongola Guardians. Can anyone tell me who I'm talking about?"

When only blank silence met his ears he scowled and rifled through his suitcase, slamming another picture up beside the four still on the board from the other day. This one depicted a nine year old with shaggy, scruffy black hair, a cow horn poking out from either side, dressed in the most ridiculous mix of a cow-print shirt, black jeans and leather cowboy chaps that the recruits had ever seen and grinning like a kid in a candy store (which, in this case, he was, but that was irrelevant).It honestly looked more like a costume than anything someone would wear in everyday life. A few of the recruits even had the nerve to laugh behind their hands while a couple of girls cooed at the 'small, cute kid'.

The Sergeant just grinned. You would think that they'd have learnt by now but apparently not. Unholy glee shining in his eyes, the Sergeant carefully unfolded the large sheet he had pulled out with the photo, restoring it to its metre-square size. He continued, "This is the Vongola's Lightning Guardian, Lambo, previously a hitman from the Bovino Famiglia. He is known for channeling electricity through the horns he wears when attacking and received his Vongola ring when he was only five. He also-"

"Hahi! What do you mean! Surely the Vongola aren't recruiting children!"

_That little-_ The Sergeant ground his teeth to keep from yelling at that stupid, idiotic, moronic, _suicidal _recruit at the back, choosing instead to attempt to induce her into spontaneously combusting by glaring a hole through her head. "_As I was saying_, the Bovino Famiglia are renowned throughout the mafia for having invented a method for time traveling." Ignoring the recruits' disbelieving looks he continued, "Whether or not that is true, the fact remains that Lambo is the current owner of said mechanism, as well as several other experimental inventions of the Bovino. He is well known himself for the widespread destruction caused when he is upset, mainly due to the extreme quantity of hand grenades he is known to carry at any one time. In this he has been likened to the Storm Guardian Hayato Gokudera and his dynamite cache. There are also rumours of a bazooka but these are yet to be proven.

"The last mission Lambo was sent on involved, supposedly, reconnaissance on a racketeering and smuggling gang working out of a local mall. The mission was conducted with the aid of two other Vongola children; 'Ranking Fuuta', who is known throughout the mafia for being able to accurately rank anything, and I-Pin, a child trained by the Arcobaleno Fong in martial arts. Between the three of them over half the mall was completely flattened, the rest was smoke damaged, and everyone inside at the time had to be hospitalised from smoke inhalation, poison-induced uncontrollable movements or vertigo. The overall cost to the mall, the police and the hospital totaled several million, most of which was reimbursed by the Vongola itself." The Sergeant stared down the recruits, watching with amusement as their expressions changed from disbelief to confusion to shock. It was the hospitalisations that did it, of course. None but the hardest could still like the cow brat after hearing he had put so many in hospital.

And that was just the latest incident.

"Now, moving on. The next Guardian is-"

"Wait!" a voice called out from the back and the Sergeant wished he could bang his head against the wall without looking mad. "What about the other two? Fuuta and I-Pin? That much damage couldn't have just been done by one kid, but you haven't said anything useful about the them."

The Sergeant glared at Brat No. 2 with extreme distaste clear in his eyes. "This week's lectures are _only _about the Vongola_ Boss, Guardians and highest ranks._ Those kids barely rate as non-combatants, let alone high-ranking hitmen. They'll be covered at the end of the lectures if at all. Now, if you'll just _shut. up."_

One last glare, this one shared over all the recruits, and the Sergeant finally continued, "Moving on! The next Guardian is the Sun, Ryohei Sasagawa. A boxer renowned in the underground tournaments as undefeatable, Sasagawa is also a complete idiot." The Sergeant smirked, enjoying the surprise on the recruits' faces. After all the terrifying mafioso he had been introducing the Sun Guardian was their little break. Not that Sasagawa was any less powerful mind you, but recruits were a lot easier to deal with on the battlefield if you knew who they were going to target beforehand. And, faced with the might of the Vongola, the idiots always went for the one they thought would be easiest. Cowards.

"Ryohei Sasagawa is loud, brash, stupid and annoying. In general, he's all brawn and no brain." The Sergeant tipped two photos out of his case. Clipping the first to the board he continued, "This is Ryohei Sasagawa. This," he slammed up another, "is what he can do to a building with one punch."

It was rather amusing to just sit back and watch sometimes, the Sergeant thought, as he watched the myriad expressions cross the recruits' faces.

Ryohei himself, in his photo, looked like nothing special. Just a nineteen year old with white hair, running through a park in exercise sweats. He didn't look dangerous or insane or any more like a fighter than one would expect of a pro boxer.

It was the second photo - one of a building Ryohei had been told to 'evacuation then raze to the ground'- that got the best reactions.

The building in the picture - previously a five storey, steel framed monstrosity that had been the headquarters of a human trafficking ring - resembled, quite eerily, the mansion recently destroyed by Hibari. Indeed, with the photos only a metre apart it was hard not to compare the two and the results were frightening. Ryohei's target building had been reduced to half the metal skeleton that had originally supported the building, towering steel beams pointing up towards the sky from a nest of wood and glass that had been shattered by the shockwaves of Ryohei's punch. The Sergeant was just glad it hadn't happened in his jurisdiction - he'd heard that the clean up had taken a month and that the 'anonymously gifted' traffickers had numbered in the dozens, too many for any one station to deal with.

Truthfully that photo was a couple of years old, but what the recruits didn't know wouldn't hurt them any more than they were already going to suffer.

"Only a complete moron wouldn't realise how stupid it would be to engage Sasagawa in a fist fight so, obviously, the recommended method of dealing with him is to keep your distance and try to either shoot him down or trap him." Not that either had worked yet, but the higher ups were hopeful. Maybe, one of these days, someone might get lucky and actually catch the bloody Sun Guardian. And not get steamrolled in the process.

"Now, our next subjects-"

"That's it?"

_Oh for- _

The Sergeant glared, daring the girl to open her mouth again.

Apparently she was as stupid as Sasagawa.

"All you can tell us is to 'shoot him down or trap him'? What about defenses, weak points - as a mafioso, surely he's learnt to defend himself from bullets by now! And how do we trap him - a net, a dead-end alleyway, an elaborate 'caught-in-the-act' trap? You're not telling us anything important!"

_How can one - well, two - kids be so damn annoying? Surely there's some cosmic law out there against brats like this!_

"I can't tell you because I don't have the data or the time to go over every single minuscule fact about each Guardian, let alone one that is hardly ever seen in combat," the Sergeant ground out, keeping himself calm (outwardly) by sheer force of will. "You have a folio of battle strategies that was given to you at the start of this course. Use it!" Voice lowering back down from its tremulous half-roar, he continued, "If you would like to read any of the discussed persons' files feel free to lodge a request with the archives. If there's nothing else?"

Brat No. 2 just smiled sweetly and scribbled something down on her notepad, her friend beside her leaning over to mutter something in No. 2's ear. The Sergeant twitched, the sheer audacity of those two astonishing and infuriating.

"Now. Our next subjects are the two _potential_ Mist Guardians. Unfortunately no one has yet been able to ascertain which of the two is the _true _Mist Guardian as both seem to alternately act in the capacity of Guardian, but certain trends have been recorded."

The Sergeant rifled through the folders withinam his case again. "It should be noted that, while both are dangerous, Chrome seems to be the more diplomatic of the two, often appearing at events and more _delicate _situations. Mukuro in contrast-" The Sergeant broke off, frowning, as he flicked through the sheets in his case one more time. Quickly the frown morphed into an expression of utter rage, a tick appearing just above his eye. He cast a glare around at the recruits, gaze almost screaming, '_Stay!'_, before he stormed over to the doorway, slammed the door open, poked his head out and roared, "JUNIOR!"

Less than a minute later a frantic looking Junior rushed into the room, grabbing onto the doorway to avoid skidding past in his hurry to brake. "Yes?" he stammered.

"Explain why there are files missing from the Mist Guardian folders."

Junior's head snapped up, eyes wide in a deer-caught-in-the-headlights-of-a-semi-trailer kind of way, and several recruits almost felt pity for him. Almost.

"F-files m-missing?" The poor boy stuttered. "I- I don't kn-know-"

"Does it look like I care if you know where they are or not! FIND THEM!" The Sergeant bellowed. Junior scuttled backwards, tripping over his own feet in the process, then scrambled away down the hall. The recruits could vaguely hear half-shouted orders through the open doorway, but then the noise quieted as a new voice joined in, soft yet not hesitant. Barely twenty seconds later footsteps could be heard coming down the hall again; calm, composed and nothing at all like Junior's terrified sprinting.

The Sergeant knew someone up there hated him. He'd always known that. But the instant that new brat Cozart wandering into the room, two folders clutched in his arms, the Sergeant wondered just what he'd done wrong to deserve both the students _and_ the secretary from hell.

"Yes?" The Sergeant barked, just wanting the nuisance to be gone from _his room_ as soon as possible.

Cozart unfolded his arms from around the folders, slowly offering them to the Sergeant from both hands. "The files you wanted, sir."

Glaring, the Sergeant snatched the files from him, flicked through them to make sure everything was there, then leveled his gaze on the secretary. "I assume from the speed they were found that they were on your desk. Why?"

One shoulder twitched as if Cozart had moved to shrug then remembered his surroundings. He took his customary moment of consideration (during which the Sergeant counting backwards from ten in Chinese in an attempt to keep his temper) before replying, "I'm not sure."

"WHAT DO YOU-" An odd choking sound came from the Sergeant's throat as he cut himself off.

_Don't scare off the new kid too early. Secretaries are sick. Let them get better before you force them to come back or you'll have a station full of snot-nosed invalids. _That_ would be hell. _

The Sergeant cleared his throat then continued, much quieter but in a voice that still shook with anger, "What do you mean you're not sure?"

Cozart let his gaze sweep around the classroom, acknowledging the hyperactive wave from Brat No. 1 (_Seriously, is she five years old or something?_) with a small nod. "They were sitting on the desk this morning with a note stuck to them. Something about a clue linking to the Mist Guardians and not having time to run a file request through archives at three in the morning?"

The Sergeant frowned slightly, unable to remember seeing the folders on the secretary's desk when he had glanced over it that morning before he'd been interrupted, but shook it off. Most likely it had been pushed to one side and buried under a pile of other files. He muttered, "Right. Thanks," and turned his back on Cozart, pulling photos from the folders as he stalked over to his case and board.

Cozart sent the Brats one last glance from behind the Sergeant then left, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.

"Right. Now that that's sorted," the Sergeant said as he slammed two more photos up on the board, rounding on the still slightly anxious class with a malicious grin, "meet the Vongola's Mist Guardians - Chrome Dokuro and Mukuro Rokudo."

The photos, when the recruits focused in on them, invoked two very different reactions. A beautiful woman with deep blue hair was the focus of the first photo, dressed in an elaborate mauve ballgown. Her only oddity was the lace eyepatch that covered her right eye, but even with that the portrait drew envious glares from the females and adoring smiles from the males. The other photo, in comparison, gained nothing but blank stares and confused yet angry glares. It was, after all, was a mugshot of a young Mukuro Rokudo just before he entered Vendicare, height reference background and prison uniform included with his one red eye almost hidden by narrowed, glaring eyes.

Grinning, the Sergeant waved a negligent hand at the two photos. "These two are both exactly what they seem and, at the same time, the complete opposite. The are almost identical in appearances and even fight with the same trident-like weapon and, supposedly, some advanced Vongola technology that allows them to create 'illusions'." The sneer in the Sergeant's voice was obvious - 'illusions' were as good as magic, and everyone knew _that_ didn't exist. "However, as I was saying before, Dokuro is the more level-headed of the two, always appearing as the Vongola Mist Guardian at events requiring diplomacy and careful maneuvering. She also has no records from before she entered the public eye as a member of the Vongola apart from a possible link to a dead girl of the same age and appearance.

"Mukuro Rokudo on the other hand was supposedly born into the Estraneo Famiglia, famous for their cutting-edge and eventually rather disgusting experimentation. He was a member of the Famiglia throughout his childhood. Until," the Sergeant paused, smirked, dropped his voice, then whispered, "he killed them all."

Recruits around the room froze up or blinked in shock. The Sergeant just grinned and continued in the same low, horror-movie-esque tone, "The Estraneo are believed to have been, at that time, using their kids as test subjects in an attempt to create the perfect human weapon. Obviously they succeeded, at least in the 'human weapon' part, but that experiment also decided to massacre them all for their troubles. Rokudo was imprisoned in the mafia prison Vendicare for his trouble, along with the few other surviving Estraneo kids, but was then the first to ever manage to escape from said prison. He was, however, captured before he could get far and sent down to a high security cell where he languished until the Vongola Tenth negotiated his release two years ago.

"Mukuro Rokudo," the Sergeant continued, expression finally serious as he let his eyes rove over all the recruits, "is the epitome of all that is evil in the mafia, whether that be personally or through his history. He is powerful beyond belief, definitely a psychopath, most likely a sociopath, has been a member of a Famiglia so heinous that it was rejected by the rest of the mafia, has been subject to some of the sickest human experimentation ever designed and has killed more people than most of you will ever point a gun at. Although without the history, Dokuro is considered to be equally as powerful and dangerous as her male counterpart. Together... Well." The Sergeant let the corner of his lips flick up in a grim smile. "Together, it would take a miracle to take them down.

"Therefore," the Sergeant continued, voice rising back up into a more jovial range, "certain strategies have been devised for when dealing with either of these two or any similar fighters. Reports have, after all, been coming in claiming there are others with similar abilities, though these persons are unconfirmed at this time.

"The first," the Sergeant grinned, "is to stand and fight, obviously. This does present some issues though as it has been reported that all but the strongest of mind get drawn into the Mists' illusions." Which usually ended up with people in psychiatric wards mumbling about columns of fire and giant lotus vines, but they didn't need to know that. "Our advice is to keep calm and carry on, and to focus your mind on what you _know_ is real regardless of what you're perceiving, whether that be your location, the people around you or the weapon in your hand." Hopefully. Any idiot who went into a fight against _any_ Vongola Guardian without a weapon in their hand was beyond help.

"The second and most effective plan, is also the simplest." The Sergeant leveled his gaze on some of the more useless recruits and paused to make _sure_ he had their undivided attention.

"Run."

Amid the spluttering of some of the recruits - including the disbelieving stares of the two brats in the back row who he was going to ignore - the Sergeant just sighed and stepped to the side slightly to allow all the recruits to see the various images attached to the board. There was an innocent-looking Vongola Tenth Tsunayoshi Sawada, the young and childish Lambo, a partially-snarling Hayato Gokudera, the beautiful yet dangerous Chrome Dokuro, an energetic Ryohei Sasgawa and the two demons, Kyouya Hibari and Mukuro Rokudo. Never mind the missing Rain Guardian. It was an eclectic group; one that, to an outsider, probably made no sense, but the Sergeant had seen them in action and knew just how well they could work. It was a few years ago, back when he still just an everyday cop, but he would never forget the day he watched all of them, including a cloaked Rain Guardian, dismantle an army of two hundred mafioso in under half an hour. It had been like nothing he had ever seen before or wanted to ever see again, and in the aftermath he had been able to feel only one thing for the people who could accomplish such a feat and yet not not shed a single drop of blood:

Respect.

Complete and utter respect.

It was why he taught the new recruits every year despite his hatred for the spineless little worms. Rather than just learning the facts about an enemy that they may, if they were lucky, never come across in their careers, the Sergeant liked to instill in them something far more important. Something that would make sure that they fought when they could, ran when they needed to, and never, ever underestimated their opponents. Respect, tempered with a healthy dose of fear.

After all, only an idiot would regard the Vongola - the strongest, largest and oldest mafia famiglia in the underworld - with anything less than respect and fear, not matter which side of the law they were on.

And the Sergeant wasn't an idiot.


	8. A Vongola Shopping Trip

_HI! So, firstly, apologies - I really have no idea why this took so long to write. I think, perhaps, it was mainly because I didn't have the time to write more than a hundred words here and a hundred words there. Real life sucks, agreed? _

_In other news, this chapter is the longest yet! 6k words, when I usually average around 2k. I hope you all enjoy it. Considering I wrote it over such a long period of time (three weeks? four?) I'm kinda expecting it to be a little jumpy and stilted. But I wanted to update now, so you guys didn't have to wait any longer. I promise to go through and edit it later!_

_And, that scene near the end with Fuuta? All I could think of was Magneto from X-Men. xD Sorry! Still, my Fuuta is _bad ass. _Though, Fuuta is annoying to write. Or, at least, 13 year old Fuuta is annoying to write. I thought Lambo was gonna be the one I'd hate most, but, no. Damn you Fuuta! -shakes fist-_

* * *

"Lambo, I-Pin, Fuuta. I'm glad you could join us."

The three youngest Vongola glanced at each other, apprehension and a slight tinge of guilt in their expressions. When you were part of the Troublesome Trio (as some of the older mafioso had taken to calling them) getting called into the Tenth's office was never a good thing. Still, they couldn't remember doing anything too bad recently. Lambo had only used one grenade and that had been after Gokudera attacked him with Double Bombs, I-Pin hadn't set off the Pinzu Timebomb once and Fuuta had restricted his rankings to his room (where the maids had learnt early on to not leave anything valuable lying around). Why would they have been called to...

Tsuna couldn't help but smile at his three 'sibling's' nervousness. Basil, standing just beside and behind Tsuna, fought to keep his own expression straight. Those three were too cute for their own good. Most of the time.

"Please, sit." Tsuna waved a negligent hand at the chairs arranged in front of his desk and gave the kids what he hoped was a calming smile. "You're not in trouble. In fact, you're here because I have a mission for you."

It was almost comical how quickly the expressions of apprehension became surprise, happiness and, especially in Lambo, a sort of evil glee that Tsuna had long ago learnt to harness for his own gains. Perhaps not the most altruistic method of dealing with it, but hey. He was a mafia boss. Everything considered he was doing pretty well at not becoming a self-centred demon.

"Tsuna-nii has.. a mission for us?"

"Yep," Tsuna replied, still grinning and briefly reverting to his 'Big Brother' self, as Basil moved forward to hand each child a manilla folder. "It's very important and must be completed to the absolute best of your ability, understand?"

The kids each nodded enthusiastically, Lambo practically bouncing in his seat. Tsuna focused on the young Bovino, expression turning serious as he slipped once more into 'Boss Mode'. "Lambo."

The cow child glanced up, face still contorted from trying to read the fancy wording of the mission description. Sensing the Tenth's seriousness he straightened up, four years of training kicking in. "Yes?"

"You will be leading this mission as my Lightning Guardian. This will be the first time you've run a mission but I expect nothing but the best from my Guardians. You can understand why."

Lambo nodded, eyes wide, as the child on either side of him stared between Tsuna and Lambo with almost as much shock in their gazes. Leading a mission? He was nine! Not even ten! How on earth-

"You will all be wearing earpieces and tracking devices so that you can communicate with and locate each other but yours, Lambo, will also be connected to Basil's, who will be leading a concurrent mission in the same area. You will work together to achieve both your objectives, understand?"

All three children nodded, still stunned, but Lambo kept throwing confused and speculative glances at Basil who was, by this point, no longer able to completely hide his smile.

"Now, the mission." Tsuna lifted a familiar manilla folder from his desk, flipped through it briefly, then threw it to the side with a smile. He leaned forward, a mischievous and secretive grin on his face, and said quietly, "Your official orders, the ones you have in your hands there, are to infiltrate the base of a gang who run their racketeering and smuggling business from a local mall. If you read the whole thing it would talk about the information you'd need to retrieve from their files, how many gang members are expected to be there and a brief outline of the blueprints of the mall, which are also included. Of course, you're welcome to read it all. It might help if you're caught and someone asks what you were doing there. Which reminds me - I gave you those folders so that you could take them with you. They'll be your alibi."

The three Vongola kids were still frozen in surprise, but they seemed to be catching on. I-Pin's eyes were narrowed in suspicion, Fuuta had leant forward with a crease between his brows as he thought and Lambo was, once again, practically bouncing in his seat. The tone of the conversation had taken a turn he was quite comfortable with, not to mention excited about. If his guess was right...

Tsuna leaned back, digging through one of his drawers for a moment, before retaking his position with another, considerably thinner, folder in his hands. "There is only one copy of this file, and it is staying with me. You'll each read and memorise it, then return it before you leave today. This," he smirked, "is your real mission."

Fuuta's eyes widened, I-Pin smiled and Lambo sat on his hands to stop himself from snatching the folder from Tsuna's hands. Basil turned, staring out the large bay window, to hide his grin. Honestly, Tsuna should have taken up acting. He'd never admit it and none of his Guardians would ever say it aloud but if there was one thing the Tenth had learnt from Reborn it was that he had become a complete and utter drama queen. Honestly.

"Now." Tsuna flicked the file open, smirk still apparent, as he handed the single sheet inside to Lambo. "This is what I want you to do..."

* * *

"Lambo, no!"

"Gyahahaha! The Great Lambo can do what he wants!"

"Lambo! Tsuna-nii said to be discrete!"

Nearby shoppers looked on in amusement or annoyance as the three young mafioso tore past, the front child - a nine year old in the oldest cow costume - clutching onto a folder of papers and laughing maniacally. The next, a girl of the same age in a Chinese dress, kept shouting for the first to stop in a mix of Italian and Japanese while the third, a good four years older, trailed after them on his much longer legs, worry on his face as his eyes flickered over the surrounding civilians.

Fuuta had, by unanimous and unfair vote, been nominated as unofficial guard. Unfortunately as the oldest and the clearest of sight and mind, he could hardly argue, much as he wanted to. Not that that was preventing him from doing his absolute best. Tsuna-nii had given them this mission, trusting that they would be able to fulfill all objectives. He wouldn't let Tsuna-nii down.

I-Pin, after a long argument with Lambo, had been designated as 'navigator'. She had spent a good hour in Tsuna's office, long after the others had left, memorising the blueprints that he had supplied them with. It was her job to make sure they headed in the right direction (far, far from Basil and where their official orders told them to go), didn't destroy anything important (also down Basil's end of the mall, so that wasn't hard) and were able to get out safely if things went wrong. She had decided to do that by assuming that the locals wouldn't understand Japanese and interspersing her usual Italian pleas for sanity from Lambo (as if that would ever happen) with the occasional direction in the foreign tongue. Combined with her regular Japanese rebukes, of course. It would sound strange if she only ever shouted 'migi' or 'hidari' in the other language. The occasional Chinese insult may have slipped in there somewhere too.

Having a legitimate excuse to yell anything and everything at Lambo in threelanguages had absolutely nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Lambo, in comparison, had one very easy job:

Cause chaos.

And he was doing very well. Fuuta had already noticed three groups of men dressed up as mall security who had taken special notice of Lambo, the folder he was carrying and their constant shouts about 'needing to follow orders'. Hopefully they'd take the bait soon, then Lambo could send Basil in and they could get started on the second half of their mission.

"Lambo, right!"

The young cow-child careened around the next corner with a mad laugh, dodging trolleys and feet with practiced ease. I-Pin took the more 'direct' route and used the various obstacles as platforms to jump between and Fuuta just sighed and followed on foot, occasionally using a little of his flame - finally controllable after four years of training with Enma and his Earth Flame - to push or pull things out of his path.

It took only a few seconds for Fuuta to spot the 'security guard' conveniently walking to intercept their path and, hoping Lambo and I-Pin would understand, he shouted, "Lambo! We'll get throw out if you continue like this!"

Lambo skittered to a stop, turning around with a pout and barely sidestepping I-Pin's slide. "Really?"

Fuuta heard the unasked question - _where?_ - and hid his pleased smile behind a stern scowl. "We have a job to do, Lambo. No more playing around."

I-Pin, who had taken to watching the thugs via the reflections on a nearby dress shore's windows (Fuuta hoped), added, "How much longer do we have?"

One hand reaching up to brush a curl of air behind his ear - temporarily revealing the small earpiece lodged there, Lambo muttered petulantly, "Not long."

A broken static sound echoed from a shop across the hall and Fuuta cast a careful, slow glance over the shopfront. "Time to go then?"

I-Pin nodded and took the lead, turning them back the way they came. to where they knew the enemy famiglia's HQ was. Lambo, suddenly reverting to manic childishness, leapt forward and began dashing down the hall again, yelling gleefully.

The 'guards' didn't react for a few seconds as they processed the intentionally loud conversation and the kids' sudden change of direction. Then there was a shout, the crackle of static and men in security uniforms and Kevlar were pouring out of every nook, cranny and shadow.

"Vongola!" The bellow of a particularly large guard got both Lambo and the civilian shoppers' attention. Lambo slid to a stop in surprise, turning just in time to see a rifle swing up to aim at him. "You're going to die brat!" Muscle Monster growled, sadistic smirk in place. "We'll be sending you back to your dear Tenth in pieces!"

The screams started then, the civilian's previous silence broken by the appearance of various pistols, handguns, rifles and even a bazooka (and how they expected to use that inside the mall Fuuta had no idea).

"Lambo!" Fuuta called out, beckoning the younger child back as he drew even with I-Pin. The cow child skipped over, totally undaunted by the veritable army of projectile weaponry pointed at them, and grinned at his friends.

"Can we start now?"

Fuuta shot a glance around their surroundings, glad to see all the civilians had been scared off, and nodded. "Yes. Ready?"

Back-to-back with the others, Lambo once again pushed his hair back, gently pressing the transmitter button. With a smirk on his face and a hand on a grenade, Lambo, for once, only needed one word.

"Go."

_BOOM_

Lambo grinned as his first grenade went off, ducking and weaving to draw some of the enemy's fire to himself. One grenade, two grenade, dodge the knife. Three grenade, four grenade, duck behind the pot plant. Five grenade, six grenade- Oh, look, smoke grenade! Chuck that back~

I-Pin danced through the incoming bullets, occasionally landing a punch or kick on some unfortunate soul. She had a few gyoza buns scattered through her pockets, but she was saving those for later. No point showing all your cards from the start after all.

Kick, punch, duck. Back flip, kick, hand spin, duck. Punch, dodge, kick- Sorry! Kick, snap gun, duck...

Fuuta smiled, watching his 'siblings' fights from the corner of his eye. He did feel a small amount of pity for the victims of Lambo's grenades and I-Pin's occasional... vertically challenged hits (and with the way those guys were _not_ getting up, Fuuta made a note to _never_ fight I-Pin), but he figured they deserved it. He certainly wasn't pulling his own punches.

Jerking back when he felt a greater-than-usual pull on his flame, Fuuta turned to glare at his assailants. _Why... Oh. Really? The bazooka? _Fuuta felt a small flare of satisfaction as he grinned at the idiot holding the bazooka, the missile it had shot suspended a good metre from his face due to the gravity well he had surrounded himself with. Around a hundred bullets, three knifes and even a full gun were floating around him, his own feet barely brushing the ground.

The idiot with the now-empty bazooka stumbled back, almost felling several of his friends who had frozen in shock and, perhaps, fear. Fuuta just continued to grin. After being chased around and bullied by the mafia for most of his life it felt good to be able to give them back some of their own medicine. Namely, _fear_.

"Are you having fun?" Fuuta innocently questioned, cocking his head to the side and looking for all the world like a curious thirteen year old. When nobody answered him, some even backing away hesitantly, Fuuta let his smile fall into a pout. "No? Well that's no good." Raising his hands, Fuuta upped his flame output the slightest causing all the objects around him to begin to whirl agitatedly, the barely heard whistle of the bullets whipping through the air adding a strange undertone to the echoes of gunshots, explosions and yells coming from the rest of the battle. It was his own personal ammunition tornado and he was determined to make the best of it.

"I suppose," Fuuta added with a childish frown, "I shouldn't have stolen your toys. You can't have fun without toys, right?" Then the frown melted back into a smile and Fuuta, hands waving as if conducting an orchestra, maxed out his flame output with a flick of his wrists.

"Here you go!"

The shrapnel, all hundred and something pieces of it, went flying into the crowd of mafioso, causing a great deal of shrieking and screaming. Fuuta had made sure that nothing was fast enough to actually pierce anything, but the force of impact was still plenty enough to break bones, cause severe bruising and, in one poor man's case, break a few teeth.

"Oops."

"Fuuta-nii!" Fuuta turned at I-Pin's voice, his earth flame shield still up in case there was someone still conscious enough to try to shoot him from behind. He smiled at the scene that met his eyes - I-Pin sitting on a mall bench calmly munching on a gyoza bun and Lambo perched atop a pile of smoking bodies, lollipop in his mouth and a grenade bouncing between his hands.

I-Pin, quickly finishing her bun and jumping down from her seat, glanced at Lambo. "The others?"

Lambo grinned, the lollipop morphing it into something quite demented, and reported, "They're in. They need more time though - security was harder to get through than they planned for." Using one guy's body as a slide he slipped to the ground, cackling quite evilly, "They wouldn't have had any problems if the Great Lambo was with them!"

Fuuta just nodded absentmindedly, well used to Lambo's peculiarities, and turned to I-Pin. "What do we do now then? We need to make another distraction or Basil-nii might get caught."

The Chinese girl frowned, taking a minute to run over both their orders and the map contained in her head. "No orders. But..."

"But?"

"The map was... interesting."

Lambo looked up from where he had been kicking a slight-groaning man's foot, curiosity and mischief clear in his eyes. "Interesting?

I-Pin nodded, pacing slightly as she thought it over. "A room... Don't know, but it looked important." Glancing up at Fuuta, who knew a fair bit about mafia strongholds from his many (reluctant) stays in different ones, she added, "Three solid metal doors, machine gun protection and electrical system, probably lasers."

Eyes widening in shock, Fuuta just stared. There weren't many things that would be hidden under that kind of security, and to know that such a small, generally insignificant family had something like that...

Lambo bounced excitedly, grinning madly. "Lambo wants to see! Lambo wants to see!"

Fuuta slowly nodded, curiosity quickly winning the war against caution. Surely it wouldn't hurt to go have a look... If they found something important then Tsuna-nii would be pleased with them and if they didn't, at least they had done their part in distracting the other famiglia. And if it turned out to be too dangerous they'd just run away. Basil would rescue them if needed too.

Decided, Fuuta smiled at I-Pin. "Lead the way."

It took almost twenty minutes of running through the mall, down an alley, through the maintenance corridors and down two flights of stairs, during which the three young Vongola fought off - smashed, really - a good four dozen variously disguised enemy mafioso, before I-Pin called a stop.

Before them, glaringly conspicuous after a hundred metres or so of blank hallway, was a very large, very heavy looking metal door.

Fuuta stared at the door, the first flutters of apprehension beginning to flutter through his stomach. That door was _massive_. And important-looking. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...

"Gyahahaha!" Lambo bounced forward, grenade clutched in his hand, and shouted, "No such puny door can hold back the Great Lambo!"

"Lambo, no-!"

_BOOM_

Fuuta and I-Pin hurriedly threw an arm over their eyes, their ears ringing with both the explosion and Lambo's continued mad laughter. The force of the resulting wind hit next, nearly bowling Fuuta over and sending both of the younger kids skidding back a couple of feet, and Fuuta felt his heart sink.

_Yep, definitely a bad idea._

A minute later, once the dust and debris had settled down and the three could actually hear again, Fuuta finally uncovered his eyes. He sought out the steel door, expecting to see very little damage, if any. Something with such high security couldn't possibly be taken out by one little grenade, couldn't it-

"What...?"

I-Pin picked her way forward around the various pieces of roof and dented floor tiles until she was within distance of being able to touch the door. She reached out, slowly, pressed one finger to the centre, nearest where the grenade had struck and-

_Clang!_

Fuuta's eyes followed the large chunk of smoking steel that fell at I-Pin's feet then gradually rose again to stare, completely dumbfounded, at the gaping hole in the middle of the _six inch thick metal door._

Over half the door had disappeared, laying in pieces on the ground either side of the opening or even embedded in the walls and ceiling, and the rest was leaning precariously as if ready to fall at any moment. A multitude of exposed wires dangled from various sections of the door and the whole thing was still smoking and, in some places, glowing red.

"Lambo, what did you _do?_" Fuuta breathed.

Said cow child cocked his head as if studying the door and grinned around his latest lollipop. "A special grenade."

"What?"

I-Pin prodded the door thoughtfully. "Lightning Flames."

Lambo nodded, dancing forward gleefully. "Yep! Spanner made me a new type of grenade I can put sharp Flames into so that it cuts up anything nearby. It even cuts through diamond!" He slapped one hand against the door, still grinning, then yowled and snatched his hand back with a scowl. Even from a few metres away Fuuta could see the angry red burn from the hot metal.

_Spanner, why? _

"Laser system."

I-Pin's voice broke through Fuuta's internal monologue about genius inventors giving insane cow children _more _highly dangerous weapons and he carefully moved forward to join them in peering into the next room. Fuuta frowned, unable to spot anything in the apparently empty metal-plated room that could possibly mean lasers, but he trusted I-Pin's judgment. She was the walking map after all.

"How do we get through it?" Lambo questioned, a slight whine still in his voice as he cradled his burnt hand. I-Pin frowned, obviously considering options, but Fuuta took a hasty step back.

"Shouldn't we... not go on?" Both of the younger kids turned back to stare at him and he raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean, someone must have heard that explosion and if they come down here we'll be trapped. We should get out before something happens."

I-Pin looked thoughtful but Lambo glared and even went so far as to stamp one foot. "No! Lambo wants to see the super secret secure room!"

"Lambo-"

"We can exit through here."

Fuuta blinked, surprised. "We can?" I-Pin nodded and Fuuta went back to staring through the destroyed door into the room beyond. If they could check out the special room and get out easily afterward... Fuuta sighed, sent a quick prayer up to the planets, then stepped forward, determined. "How do we get past the lasers?"

Lambo shrugged, obviously lost in a day dream about 'super secret secure' rooms, but I-Pin smiled. "Lambo, smoke grenade!"

The Bovino blinked, startled, then grinned. A grenade appeared from somewhere under his shirt and was quickly lobbed through into the next room, all three kids ducking back behind the remains of the door just in case. A few seconds later a soft hissing sound was followed by a trail of gas seeping past their feet and, with one last glance at each other, the three ducked through and into the hazy room.

It was the work of a minute for the young Vongolas to cross the fifteen or so metres of security lasers, half of them not even an issue due to the kids' height. They stopped in front of the next door, identical to the last, and Lambo drew another grenade out with a grin. But Lambo grabbed his hand before he could unpin it and shook his head. "We're too close. The explosion would hurt us as much as the door."

"Machine gun."

Fuuta nodded. "And that." He frowned, thinking for a moment, then smiled. "Not that a gun is any problem. I'll deal with it. Just stay close."

The two younger mafioso stepped closer, curious, but Fuuta didn't notice. All his concentration was now focused on the door and what lay beyond it.

Slowly, with a loud groan as if it was resisting, the top of the door began to buckle. Cracks appeared along the edges and the very top twisted, rolling outward the tiniest bit.

Cracks widened and dents started to appear further down. Another loud groan, an odd snapping noise and then, suddenly, half the door was falling backwards and into the room beyond.

The hail of bullets was almost immediate, peppering the fallen metals with many small marks. Some ricocheted through the doorway but froze an foot from the kids, two of whom were preparing to dodge, when they met a barrier of Earth Flames. There was a pulse, a ripple of something like pure energy, and then, with one final loud groan, the rest of the door exploded outwards. It skidded across the room under a frenzy of bullets and smashed into the opposite wall, bending the reinforced metal sheeting quite impressively, with a massive _crash!_

"Right. Follow me."

Fuuta began to walk forward, eyes still partially unseeing and hands still raised like a conductor without his baton, and the two younger kids followed him with the beginnings of awe in their eyes.

They were barely half a foot in the next room when the the machine gun swung around to aim at them, bullets already spraying down like a swarm of deadly wasps. Lambo and I-Pin edged closer to Fuuta, wary even as a layer of black dots began to build up around them in some kind of convex shield, but the older boy just smiled. He glanced up once, eyes slightly clearer, then, just as he had in the earlier fight, flicked his wrist in a dismissive wave and sent the hundred or so bullets careening straight back to where they came from.

The machine gun exploded in a spectacular display of flying metal pieces and fiery gunpowder, the struts supporting clattering to the ground as they too were torn apart by the projectile bullets. Soon, all that was left of the weapon was a pile of twisted, smoking metal, the smell of gunpowder and several holes in the top corner of the wall where the gun had sat.

Gradually Fuuta came back to himself, shaking his head a couple of times to chase away the haziness, before smiling down at the thunderstruck kids either side of him. "You two okay?"

Both immediately started talking at once, I-Pin clutched onto his arm, slowly killing the circulation, and Lambo jumped up and down (again) in his typical excited fashion. Fuuta just laughed softly and patted each on the head. "I'm not that good a fighter, Lambo, I-Pin" he quietly answered, having picked up only on the others' praise of him. "I can't do anything in a fist fight, or even against most close-range weapons. It's just that..." Fuuta glanced over at the gun's remains and shrugged. "Most of the people who come after me use guns initially, so Tsuna-nii and Enma-nii taught me how to protect myself from them."

"Lambo wants to learn that!"

Fuuta laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, Lambo. You've got the wrong flame for it."

Lambo went off to sulk, kicking one foot against a metal wall now and then, but Fuuta had already shifted his attention to the door in front of him. "I-Pin?"

The small girl nodded and walked forward, Fuuta shadowing her steps, until she was within a foot of the metal monstrosity that was the next door. She frowned, peered at it for a moment, then started carefully sliding her fingers against the metal.

"I-Pin, what-"

There was a click and suddenly a small panel swung out from the door, revealing an old-fashioned dial combination lock. Fuuta stared at it, wondering why after lasers and a _machine gun_ there was such a low-tech security measure here, but I-Pin was already at work, spinning it this way and that with her ear a bare centimetre from the door. Fuuta just stood back to watch, occasionally casting a glance at Lambo who was, in turn, apparently rather curious about the Chinese girl's actions himself.

Nearly four minutes passed, during which Fuuta slowly became more and more anxious, just waiting for mafioso to come streaming down the hallway, before I-Pin let out a small exclamation, there was a loud _click_ and the door finally swung open.

"Gyahahaha! Lambo will be the first to discover the secrets of the super secret secure room!"

Fuuta threw out an arm to stop Lambo (and invariably catch him after running into said arm), wary of the next room. "I-Pin, is there any security in this room?"

"Not on map."

Nodding, Fuuta carefully scanned what he could see of the rather dimly lit room through the partially open door. Nothing looked unusual, just plain metal sheeting, but you never knew.

"Lambo, do you have another smoke grenade on you?"

The cow child grinned, drew one from somewhere in his hair and, without hesitation, pulled the pin and threw it into the next room.

I-Pin and Fuuta ducked back behind the relative safety of the door but when nothing happened after half a minute they both peeked around the heavy metal to peer into the room with Lambo.

"...You think it's safe?" Fuuta questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

"Not sure."

Fuuta glanced down at I-Pin, rather worried. Despite his history and recent training, I-Pin was still more suited to these types of situations. If she thought it was a bad idea to go in there...

"Bah. Stupid cowards!"

And Lambo was prancing into the room, hand over mouth and nose because of the smoke, completely unconcerned with any nefarious traps that might be awaiting him.

"Lambo!"

The other two watched in terror as Lambo spun around to send them a cheeky grin, then wandered over to inspect first the opposite door, the wall beside it, then drifted out of their view to one side. It was nerve racking, having him out of sight in a potentially hostile area (Tsuna-nii would be _so_ mad if they got Lambo killed on their first mission!) but Fuuta and I-Pin could do nothing but stand there and stare at each other, contemplating whether or not they wanted to follow their friend in, when-

"Hey, look!"

I-Pin and Fuuta were around the corner in a second, taking in the room with narrowed eyes, before skidding to a stop beside each other in the centre of the room. Several emotions crossed their faces - surprise, confusion, and shock - but one outweighed them all. Disbelief. Because, seriously, that thing that Lambo was so gleefully pointing at, set in the wall about his eye-height, _could not be real. _

A red button.

A big. red. button.

Complete with 'Do Not Press' label.

Fuuta suddenly understood why Tsuna-nii occasionally felt the need to bang his head into the nearest surface when dealing with the mafia, especially his Guardians. Really. Because this whole situation had just moved from weird into nightmarish.

There was no way they were getting out of there without Lambo pressing that button.

And it was giving him really bad vibes.

"Lambo-"

"No!" the boy screamed, already knowing what Fuuta would say. His face contorted into a glare and he moved to stand in front of the button as if to protect it, arms spread wide. "No! The button is Lambo's! Lambo is going to hit the button and nothing you can say will stop him!"

I-Pin stepped forward, Lambo's petulant tone drawing out her usual rant. "Lambo can't! We have to finish the mission. We should leave!"

Lambo's eyes darkened further as he took a step back. "No! Lambo will do what Lambo wants and Lambo wants to press the button so Lambo _will press the-" _Suddenly he cut off, one hand flying up to the transmitter in his ear. He listened for a few seconds, ignoring the now intent stares of the others, then grinned. "Basil's out!"

"Then we should leave!" Fuuta nodded in agreement with I-Pin, but Lambo just continued to glare.

"Lambo wants to hit the button!"

"Leave!"

"Button!"

"Leave!"

"Button!"

"Lea-"

"Alright!" Fuuta yelled. The other two turned to stare at him and he raised one hand to push against his temples where a headache was beginning to brew. "I-Pin, how far is it to get out of here?"

I-Pin paused, thinking, then replied, "One hundred metres."

"And that door?" Fuuta asked. "How do we get out?"

The Chinese girl glanced at Lambo, eyes warning, then scurried over to the next door. She poked at it, rattled the handle slightly, then shrugged. "Dead bolt and door knob. Not locked."

Fuuta frowned, but accepted it despite the security suddenly seeming way too easy. "Open it then."

"But Lambo wants-!"

Shushing the younger boy, Fuuta continued, "I-Pin will open the door, run ahead to check we can get out easily from there, come back, report and _then_ Lambo can hit the button. Deal?"

Both of the younger children glanced at each other, obviously still wanting to hold onto their grudges, but eventually nodded. It was the work of seconds for I-Pin to have the door open and be racing down the hallway beyond, Lambo watching the door with something like suspicion and growing excitement, his eyes occasionally flickering back over his head to glance at the button.

A minute later and I-Pin was back, grinning and nodding. "Easy. Outside door is the same. We can be out in seconds."

"Good." Fuuta glanced around the room, just in case he'd missed something dangerous, before inching his way towards the door. "Lambo, you really want to hit that button?"

"Yes!" The cow child was almost pouting, but it was ruined by the manic grin pulling his lips back and glittering in his eyes.

"When I say go, hit it and run over here as fast as possible, got it?"

Lambo grinned, looking truly mad in his excitement, and began bouncing on the balls of his feet again. "Okay!"

Fuuta backed off, a step into the hallway now, eyes still flickering around the room. He frowned, set aside his hesitant thoughts and slowly muttered, "Ready... Set... Go!"

A jump and Lambo hit the button. He landed, whipped around, and dashed over to where the other two waited in (hopefully) the safety of the hallway. There he stopped, still bouncing, and glanced back with eager eyes.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Dammit!"

"Lambo, language!"

Fuuta sent his own small glare Lambo's way, but continued scanning the room they'd just left.

"Why's nothing happening?" the younger boy whined. I-Pin just huffed and turned away, already walking back towards to the surface. Fuuta sighed and moved to follow her, thoughts already lost in the report he would no doubt have to write for Tsuna-nii, when he stopped.

"What was that?"

I-Pin froze, her head tilting slightly. Even Lambo seemed to have picked up on something when his face blanked.

Then it came again; a distant rumble and a slight shake in the ground.

The three children glanced at each other, confused and slightly worried, when it came again, louder, closer and with more force.

"Umm..."

"Run!"

Fuuta was off, grabbing Lambo's hand to drag the other boy with him. I-Pin dashed ahead, light feet pounding the ground.

There was another rumble then a loud _crash_ behind them. Fuuta resisted the urge to turn around and look. Lambo wrenched his hand from Fuuta's grasp, speeding ahead of the older boy slightly.

Another _crash_, followed by the suspicious sound of metal groaning under weight. The floor shifted, throwing the three kids off balance for a moment.

A rectangle of light appeared at the end of the tunnel, slowly growing. The kids put on one last burst of speed, pushed on by their fear.

Another rumble, a crash, and a groan right over their heads.

The rectangle grew, and grew, and grew, until-

The three youngest Vongola tumbled out of the doorway, collapsing in a pile twenty metres out in the sun, panting, sweat-soaked and running high on fear and adrenaline.

And behind them the previously three-storey, sprawling, several-million-dollar mall tumbled to the ground, taken out by the enemy mafia famiglia's own big, red self-destruct button.

* * *

Across the other side of town a certain mafia boss fell out of his chair laughing. The computer tech beside him who's screen was currently displaying a real-time feed from a camera in the parking lot of a certain mall stared at his boss in concern and a small amount of amusement, wondering why the Troublesome Trio completely leveling an entire mall was something to laugh at and not get angry about.

But soon enough the boss was standing again, one hand clutching his aching stomach even as the occasional chuckle continued to spill from his lips and, with a pat to the shoulder of the helpful techie, left the room.

Several of the mafioso and maids he passed gave him strange looks, but Tsuna could only smile. Because, really, all he had asked for was a little chaos as a distraction. He should have known by now asking for 'a little' anything from his Guardians was pointless. As Ryohei was fond of saying, everything his Guardians did was always done to the extreme.

_Hibari's gonna be pissed they broke his record for the largest damage bill from one mission..._


	9. Poison, Bites and Everything Nice

_Hello all! Chapter nine already! Thank you so much to everyone who's supporting me with this. This chapter (the plot, not the number) is actually where, in my original outline, this story would have ended. That means that this ends the Vongola Briefing arc and that the next chapter will be when we start getting into the fun stuff - Vongola vs. Police vs. new enemy. Three-way war anyone? 8D_

_I'd also like to mention Zessei, who we can all thank for kicking my muse into gear last week to write this and the last chapter. For anyone who likes outsider POV or Police!fics, her Bail is magnificent. It's a one shot, but it is so worth the read. (This is also a roundabout request for recs. Anyone know anything good? I'm having trouble finding fics I haven't already read.)_

_This chapter, sorry, includes **WARNINGS FOR LANGUAGE. **That will be true for quite a few chapters from here on out, so apologies to those who don't like it. I have tried to avoid heavier language, but the occasional word will be necessary story-wise._

_Anyone spot the blatant pop-culture reference? I figure she's an otaku, so why not... And I almost feel bad using 'courtesan' but it sounds cool._

_In any case, enjoy!_

* * *

_**Last time:**  
_

_After all, only an idiot would regard the Vongola - the strongest and largest mafia famiglia in the underworld - with anything less than respect and fear, not matter which side of the law they were on. _

_And the Sergeant wasn't an idiot._

* * *

"Now. The next order of business - the highest ranking non-Guardian Vongola mafioso." The Sergeant glanced around once, checking he had everyone's attention, before quickly attaching yet another oversized photo to the board. "This is 'Poison Scorpion' Bianchi, the Vongola's poison expert."

The image was a security camera shot. Bianchi was dressed as a waitress, surrounded by the obvious finery and extravagance of some well-to-do function, and offering a plate of appetizers to a group of black-suited men. The food at first inspection looked perfectly fine, until the recruits realised that the green aura emanating from the tray wasn't a photography error but poisonous fumes. Fumes that already had one of the men reeling and gagging from the look of it.

"She's also a cook," the Sergeant continued, "but it is inadvisable to eat anything she makes. The result, as you can see, is less than edible. In fact, half the time it is highly toxic and even deadly to someone not at least partially immune."

"Why would anyone _want_ to eat that?" the voice from the back whined softly, though with a pitch that echoed. Brat No. 1's neighbour nodded, frowning at the image.

The Sergeant once again wished for the chance to bash his head against the nearest surface. If those brats kept interrupting...

"The Poison Scorpion is known for being able to entice people to eat her food, despite its appearance at second glance. Some of the methods she seems to be fond of include sweet talking her victim, taste-testing her own food to prove its edibility - she is, of course, immune - and using a distraction so that person eats the food without thinking about it. Oft times that distraction is herself, by being overly polite, annoying or babbling incessantly." The latter two of which were the same thing to the Sergeant anyway. "In battle, however, she will often simply throw the food at her target. We have footage of her melting a hole through six inch metal."

"Hahi! Really?"

"I didn't know someone could be that bad at cooking..."

A growl tore loose from the Sergeant's throat. The front row scooted back in their chairs, but the two brats didn't even seem to notice. Seriously, if those two didn't stop they were going to get their necks wrung, the rules be damned.

"_Continuing on,_" he snarled. "The Poison Scorpion is also the half-sister of Hayato Gokudera, Vongola's Storm Guardian, and is one of the older members of the Vongola Decimo's inner circle. Another is this man," the Sergeant slammed another photo onto the board, this time with a distinct glare of loathing, "'Trident Mosquito' Shamal."

The image, cropped from a photo of Shamal and some woman, showed Shamal at a bar, a drink raised in a toast, grinning widely with a tint of red high on his cheeks. He was obviously drunk and the way he was half wrapped around his companion looked nothing short of suss.

"Shamal is another acquaintance of Gokudera's, having supposedly been the one who taught the Storm Guardian his skill with dynamites, and the only upper ranking Vongola with a criminal record." The Sergeant pulled out another sheet of paper and, with venomous dislike dripping from his words, spat out, "37 misdemeanors including petty theft, public intoxication, simple assault, disorderly conduct and trespass, 8 counts of being a public nuisance, 12 counts of outraging public decency, 4 counts of incitement, 15 counts of embracery, 6 counts of bribery, 35 counts of stalking, and 63 restraining orders within Italy alone. He has spent a total of fourteen months in jail between thirty one rulings though he is usually bailed out by the Vongola before he can complete his term."

The look of distaste had spread now to the recruits, many of whom couldn't comprehend just _how_ someone went about getting that many marks on their record. A mafioso at that! Just the fact that he'd let himself get caught that many times...

"Hahi! That is so _sick_."

"How could anyone want to be friends with someone like that?"

"I know!"

"You two..." the Sergeant growled. "I have _had it_ with little chit chat! Interrupt _one more time_ and you'll be standing outside for the _rest_ of the lecture! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The Sergeant's voice thundered through the small room, echoing off every wall, and sent every recruit cowering back into their seats. All except the two brats, who glanced at each other, dropped their gazes demurely and muttered, "Yes sir."

"I didn't hear you. I asked, _DO YOU UNDERSTAND!_?"

"Yes sir!"

Nodding in satisfaction, though still with the scowl and dagger-eyes in place, the Sergeant glared around at the rest of the recruits before returning to his lecture.

"Despite being an example of everything that is bad about humanity, Shamal is also highly regarded within the Vongola. This, unfortunately, stems from his reputation - not as a perverted idiot, but as an untraceable killer."

The recruits, still only half over their fear of him from minutes before, suddenly looked rather confused. If he was in a better mood the Sergeant might have smiled, but as it was he snarled at the photo behind him. "Shamal," he continued, "is a doctor. He doesn't, however, focus on his patients - he is well known for refusing to treat most of his potential patients - but rather on infecting then curing himself with as many diseases as he can.

"These diseases, once he has internalised them, are then isolated by Shamal. He uses the diseases as weapons, infecting and controlling mosquitoes who bite his target for him, and can therefore attack his target while being nowhere near them." Which is probably why he let the police catch him for so many smaller offences, just to piss off the authorities when they couldn't nab him for something big. "This ability, to strike even where the Rain Ghost can't, is what makes him so valuable to the Vongola. And so dangerous."

"Coward."

The quiet murmur from the back would have gone unnoticed if it wasn't for who it was from. The Sergeant glared, pausing briefly in his spiel, before returning to his speech without otherwise acknowledging it. _Maybe if I ignore them they'll shut up. Hopefully. Or they are _dead_._

"The last Vongola mafioso I will be introducing are these two-"

"Wait!"

_What the fuck do those two think they are doing!?_

"_What?"_

The nearest recruits scuttled back in their seats, but Brat No. 2 just continued to frown at the Sergeant.

"Aren't you going to tell us how to deal with him? Shamal, that is? I mean, mosquitoes can't exactly be fought off with a gun."

The Sergeant, his patience a very thin, frayed string, pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. He counted to ten, dropped the hand then, with his best glare, spat out, "I thought that would be _obvious_."

"Um, no."

"Mosquitoes!" the Sergeant screamed. "Little bitey insects that suck blood? How would you normally deal with them?!"

The girl blinked, large eyes looking particularly surprised and confused (and nothing like a police recruit's _should _be, damn it), and glanced quickly at her neighbour. "Insect repellent?"

"Well done!" the Sergeant cheered mockily. "Now, moving on-"

"But isn't that a little inconvenient?'

_Okay, seriously, _what?!_ Does this chit have a _death wish _or something!?_

"And _why_ would you say that?" the Sergeant growled out between clenched teeth.

"Because," the brat continued, head braced on one hand and voice pitched as if explaining the obvious, "we can't spend every minute of every day covered in repellent."

"Why the hell would you do that!?" the Sergeant snarled.

Brat No. 2 had the audacity to look confused. "Well, they could be anywhere, couldn't they?"

"Hahi!" Brat No. 1 exclaimed, suddenly fearful and glancing around as if searching the room for enemies. "There could be one right here!"

Some of the other recruits jumped, bodies hunching in and eyes skimming their surroundings nervously, but others scoffed. The Sergeant glowered at the brats, mouth opening to give a scathing reply-

"Or they could be waiting for us at home, ready to pick us off one by one!"

More of the recruits shrank in on themselves.

"That is not likely to-"

"Or we could be out patrolling one day and he could release a swarm of them on us."

"The chances of-"

"If it's a big swarm, and he can control them, repellent isn't going to do anything!"

"As if-"

"Maybe we could try some of those repellent bombs. If we used them like grenades..."

"You-"

"Hahi! What if he uses them like that; has grenades full of mosquitoes-"

"_SHUT UP!"_

The recruits jumped. Several tipped their chairs too far in their haste to lean back and fell to the floor with various thuds. One, who had been writing, snapped his pencil in half. The Sergeant, having finally lost any resemblance of patience, stalked through the tables until he loomed in front of the brats' desks. His face was puce red with anger, his lips pulled tight in a furious snarl and his dark eyes promised nothing less than unrelenting pain.

"You come in here like two _schoolgirls_, _gossiping_ and _whispering_ to each other. You _interrupt_ the _class_ and _disturb_ the _other recruits_, you question _everything_ I say as if, _somehow_, you both know better than me on a subject I _live_ on a _daily basis,_ and, _most_ of all, you obviously have absolutely _no_ damn _respect_ for your elders and betters, namely _me!_" Voice rising in pitch and volume, the Sergeant ignored the spittle flying everywhere as he roared, "I get paid to _teach_, not to _babysit_, and I won't stand to have _either_ of you in here any longer. _Get_ _out_, stand in the hallway like the schoolgirls you obviously _still_ think you are and listen from _there_."

The Sergeant panted slightly, winded from yelling for so long without break, but when the brats just sat there, not moving and staring at him in shock, he bellowed, "Well? _GET OUT!" _

Suddenly scrambling for their things, the two brats hurriedly shoved their things into their bags, stood and scuttled past the Sergeant, giving him a wide berth.

"Also," the Sergeant hissed, narrowed eyes watching as the brats paused just inside the door, "don't bother turning up on Saturday. I will not waste my time on idiots who are obviously not ready to work in the field. You'll receive a fail for that assessment." He paused, giving them time to object but both stayed silent, backs still turned. "Do not be late on Monday."

The girls nodded jerkily then, recognising the dismissal, scurried out the door.

Growling under his breath, the Sergeant stalked back to the front of the room, eyes sweeping angrily over cowed recruits. Still pissed off and thoroughly not in the mood for any more interrupted, he snarled, "Does anyone else have a problem or can we actually _get on with the lesson_?"

Heads shook emphatically and the Sergeant gave a feral and still very pissed-off grin. "Good."

"Next," the Sergeant snarled, drawing more papers from his folder, "are two girls who are known only by their nicknames. Like the Rain Guardian, we have no idea who these two are or where they came from, but this has been achieved using an almost completely opposite method. These two," and he pointed to the two pages of image collages, "are the Vongola's masters of disguise."

Both pages, each taken up by an A4 photo and several smaller shots beside it, showed several beautiful women at various events and locations. Every hair and eye colour possible was exhibited between the two pages, with even skin colour and facial structure changing in almost every photo. The clothes sampled every style possible, from ballgowns to corporate wear to street-style jeans and t-shirts. All in all, it was a confusing mix of a dozen or so women, each looking quite unique.

The recruits looked between the photos and the Sergeant with confusion in their eyes, but the Sergeant merely scowled, not taking his usual sadistic enjoyment from their expressions.

"Yes, those photos are of just two women," the Sergeant continued. "And the only reason we know there's two of them, not just one, is because they have both been spotted at the same event several times, they have slightly different mission styles and leave different names with their notes.

"The first, who often signs as 'Primavera', is officially known as 'No Face'. She is considered to be louder, brasher and more tom-boyish than her counterpart. We also know, through our undercover operatives, that she has at least a passing interest in the making of clothes, which could translate into her being Vongola's main seamstress, and is more adept at carrying a conversation around the topics of popular culture and the underworld.

"Secondly, we have the Masked Courtesan." The Sergeant scowled, his contempt for such a name obvious on his face. "Her name came from the mafia itself, a product of the rumours of her missions. She is quiet, softly-spoken, gentle, and often deals with situations needing a lighter touch. She is well versed in most of the aspects of life a 'proper mafia wife' should be, though her knowledge of fashions and makeup is extensive.

"Between these two," the Sergeant muttered, waving a hand at the photos, "the Vongola have two of the best masters of disguise in the underground. We know next to nothing about their pasts. They were trained to fight hand-to-hand and with guns, though they are not usually sent on missions as combatants; they are both well versed in poisons, which we assume was the Poison Scorpion's influence; and they are both considered as two of the most dangerous women in the mafia, both from within and outside of the underground. Between their perfect mission plans and their skill with disguising their own features, these two are not to be underestimated. Understand?"

The recruits, still rather fearful from the Sergeant's earlier explosion, fired off a loud, "Yes sir!" before they even thought about it.

"Good. If you have the misfortune to run into one of these two - or someone you suspect might be them - do not go anywhere with them, don't accept anything from them, don't eat or drink anything they give you and, most of all, get the hell out of there as soon as possible. These two never work without backup nearby and, trust me, the Vongola Guardians are not happy when they think someone is threatening one of their girls.

"And that," the Sergeant continued, voice lightening slightly as he started to remove the various photos from the board, "is the Vongola Famiglia briefing. Any questions?"

Silence reigned for all of ten seconds, none of the remaining recruits stupid enough to speak up, even if they did have queries.

"You all remember, I hope, that this weekend is your first field mission, yes?" The Sergeant turned to glance over his class briefly, smirking at the hurried nods. "You will all be meeting myself and the relevant squads here at seventeen hundred hours on Saturday, fully decked out for a raid. We will be leaving here at half-past - if you're not here by then you fail. Be useless during the raid and you fail. Stay out of the way and you'll pass; actually do something constructive and helpful and not completely idiotic and you'll get full marks, got it?"

"Um, sir?" A quiet voice spoke up from the front, quivering slightly, but the Sergeant just turned with one eyebrow raised. Considering he'd been facing the other way he couldn't exactly jump on the kid for speaking out of turn. Unfortunately.

"Speak."

"Uh," the recruit stuttered, glancing down and fiddling with his pen. "The- the raid, on Saturday. W-where...?"

The Sergeant grinned, previous bad mood forgotten in the face of the reminder of just what it was he was going to be doing that weekend. His eyes lit up in a way that was beginning to remind the recruits of flares - a definite signal of danger ahead - and his lips twisted into a sadistic and malicious smirk.

"The annual Mafia Ball, of course. Where else?"

* * *

Outside in the hall, surrounded by notices and wanted posters, the two girls grinned and high-fived then skipped away before they could be caught looking so happy about their 'punishment'.

The Mafia Ball indeed.

_Mission accomplished._


	10. The Men of Power

_Hey all! No police briefing related chapter this time I'm afraid. This isn't my favourite chapter, but it's one of those necessary explanatory filler chapters so that's understandable I think. And it's my first time writing most of these characters so I hope I did okay!_

_And, um, oops? I'm really bad at consistent updates apparently, sorry! Though, in my defense, this was already half written when I posted the last chapter. And I'm so excited to almost be at the Ball! _

_Oh, and I changed the summary! Do people like it? I figured it made more sense with the new plot...  
_

_My AN's are getting too long, so I'll say bye now. Enjoy and please review! Oh, and **language**. Again. Damn Xanxus._

* * *

"Oi, trash, hurry up and start the fucking meeting already!"

Tsuna laughed softly at the predictable demand and sank gratefully into the cushioned chair at the head of the large oval table. He glanced around at those gathered and felt a small smile take over his face. It felt good to be amongst friends.

There was Xanxus, down the other end of the table and sitting as far away from anyone else as possible (and he was only here at all because Tsuna had called in a favour and Xanxus _hated_ owing anyone), already nursing a glass of some amber coloured alcohol and glaring around at everyone else.

Dino sat closest to to the Varia Boss, strategically placed there in the hope that his tolerance of Hibari would extent to certain other annoying bastards. He was grinning and chatting amiably with Enma who was across from him (and the most likely to be able to ignore Xanxus's violent tendencies). Enma smiled slightly at the exuberant Bronco, but there was a slight crease in his brow that made Tsuna want to sigh. Enma knew something was wrong.

Diagonally opposite Dino (for the safety of everyone involved) and to Tsuna's left sat Hibari, straight backed and proper as always with a small cup of Japanese tea sitting in front of him. He seemed to be happy passing his time glaring at the Cavallone boss who was pretending to be oblivious to the attention.

Then there was Basil. Tsuna shot the man beside him a tight smile, glad he already had the complete support of one of the men at the table regardless of what was decided tonight.

"Trash..." Xanxus growled loudly, hand clenching around the glass, and the others trailed off, letting silence fall. Eyes glanced between the Varia and the Vongola but Tsuna just kept smiling, nodding a greeting to the irate gunslinger.

"Welcome everyone."

Enma murmured a hello in response and Basil bowed his head slightly to his pseudo-boss, but Dino grinned and waved excitedly. "Hey Tsuna! How are you?"

Tsuna chuckled, amused at Dino's deliberate ignorance of the tense atmosphere. "As well as can be expected, thanks."

"Something's wrong then."

Enma's quiet voice was as bland as ever but his eyes were sharp as they pierced Tsuna, taking in the tired eyes and slightly pinched lips. Tsuna tried to smile but it came out forced and after a few seconds he dropped it, instead letting a soft sigh escape. "Yes, something's wrong. That's why I called you all here today."

"Omnivore..."

Tsuna sent a quick smile at Hibari, hoping to allay the man's impatience, before turning back to the rest of the table, his face set in hard lines. "First, Yuni sends her apologies for not being able to make it. The Giglio Nero is currently suffering from some... internal issues, and she didn't want to cause any trouble for us or her own famiglia by drawing attention to today's meeting. I'll be informing her of the main points of today's discussion in the near future, but she has requested it be on a need-to-know basis only." Tsuna's face scrunched into a frown, his eyes shadowed with the memories of a future that hopefully wouldn't come. "She's asks you all to respect that as well."

Xanxus and Hibari stayed neutral and Enma and Basil's expressions only tightened, but Dino's smile disappeared completely. "Tsuna..." he groaned, voice and eyes worried, "why are we here?"

A quick glance at Basil, and Tsuna carefully flipped open the folder in front of him and slid a small stack of papers to each member of the meeting. "These files contain everything we - Basil and I - currently know. We'll give you time at the end to read through and memorise it all, but when you leave they will be incinerated," Tsuna said, voice strong and low, daring anyone to object. "The information we talk of today must not leave this room."

"We can't tell _anyone_?" Dino's surprised voice asked.

The Vongola boss just shook his head, expression still frozen in seriousness. "Until now, Basil and I have been the only ones to know any of this. Even my Guardians, who I've been sending on missions to find us information, aren't aware of exactly what they were doing." Tsuna's lips tightened in a move the others recognised from whenever he had to do something he disliked. "I falsified both their orders and their subsequent mission reports so that the information would be protected." And how he wished that hadn't been necessary...

"Brat..."

Xanxus's snarl made Tsuna blink briefly, having forgotten the taciturn Sky and the others while lost in his thoughts.

"You would all have noticed," the Tenth began, "a recent rise in the number of low-rank casualties during missions." The others frowned or, in two cases, seemingly remained unaffected, but Tsuna plowed on. "Though we have been hiding it, the Vongola has been hit the hardest. Usually we would lose, on average, a man a month with several others in hospital for various reasons. Now, though..." Tsuna swallowed. "Now, that rate has risen. Dramatically.

"At first it was just another person here, another person there. I assumed training standards had dropped and ordered a family-wide test to check competency. The results showed no discernible problems so I passed it off as a bad month." Tsuna blinked again, eyes becoming suspiciously bright, before continuing, "The next month was worse. We lost six people. Then the next month it was ten, and then fifteen." He paused, hands clenching on the desk, and Basil shot his boss a worried look.

But Tsuna straightened, eyes flickering around the table with the tiniest hint of Sky Flame lighting them from within. A repressed quiver echoed through his voice as he persisted.

"Last month, we lost twenty-one men."

Backs straightened around the table. Hibari's gaze, until then fixed boredly on the corner behind Tsuna, shifted to the documents on the table in front of him. Xanxus took a deep swig of his drink before doing the same. Dino's eyes had widened in shock, his face paling, but Enma's head had tilted until his eyes were hidden behind his bangs. Only Basil remained unmoved, expression worried as he continued observing his boss, one hand methodically folding and unfolding the corner of his papers.

"If it was only the deaths I would not be so worried, bad as that might sound." Tsuna raised one hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, his eyes skimming the report in front of him to avoid looking at any of his friends. "But the casualties haven't just been within the family. If we're lucky, the deaths occur during a discreet mission and its only the family member who is targeted. But," and Tsuna's voice quivered again, "that's not the case."

"You don't mean-" Dino cut himself off, but Enma looked like he was barely restraining himself from asking a similar question.

"Yes," Tsuna whispered. "Most of these deaths have occurred in public places or even at the victim's homes." The Vongola Boss finally looked up again, and no one could mistake the tears that were glittered in the corners of his eyes, even as he refused to let them fall. "A rough estimate puts the civilian casualties at just over a hundred."

Hibari's gaze snapped up at that, eyes narrowing in a way that Tsuna remembered fondly and fearfully from his days at Namimori Middle, when the prefect had enforced the rules with a steel tonfa. Xanxus's posture remained as uninterested as it had from the beginning, but everyone could see the way his hand clenched after he carefully set down his glass. Dino finally looked down, no longer able to hold his brother's painful gaze, even as Enma looked up with shock and horror filling his usually expressionless face. Basil had to smooth the folds from his crumpled report.

"What can we do?" Enma's soft voice asked, a hard edge to it that was rarely heard outside of battle.

Tsuna smiled sadly, acknowledging Enma's offer with a short nod, before indicating the reports in front of each of them with a wave of one hand. "You'll have to forgive me for having done some investigating. Dino mentioned unexpected deaths during a recent Cavallone raid and I took the liberty of looking up records for each of your families." Tsuna's expression hardened again. "Foundation is the only one of us who hasn't suffered any unusual casualties, which I assume comes from them being based in Japan. The Giglio Nero has been the hardest hit next to the Vongola, which is part of the cause of Yuni's current problems."

Enma, Dino and Hibari stiffened (in other circumstances Tsuna would have smiled - his Cloud Guardian's protective streak when it came to the small and cute Giglio Nero boss almost rivaled Gamma's) but Xanxus snorted and took another swig of his drink. Only Tsuna could see the tightening around his eyes that was anything but nonchalant. "So you brats are having trouble leading your families right. Why's it matter to me?"

"The Varia are third."

Xanxus hid a choke behind a quick cough, the glass of alcohol crashing to the table with a little more force than necessary. His eyes skimmed the papers in front of him, quickly flipping a few pages when he didn't immediately find what he wanted. Then he paused, his eyes narrowing, and the rest of the alcohol disappeared down his throat.

"That damn shark..."

"You didn't know?" Tsuna asked, slightly perplexed. Despite Xanxus's rough demeanor Tsuna knew he cared for his troops. Even with the casualty rate being less obvious than the Vongola's, Tsuna had still expected the other Sky to have noticed.

The Varia leader ran a hand through his hair, settling back in his chair in a way Tsuna had long decided meant he was pissed off - legs akimbo, arms gripping the armrests and body curled the slightest bit forward like a cat waiting to pounce. "He said someone had fucked up a raid. Some new trash."

Tsuna sighed, recognising the problem from when his own Guardians tried to water down problems for him. It was the downside to having subordinates that cared about you.

"So someone's going around picking off lower-ranking members of the Vongola Famiglia and its allies." Dino piped up, a hint of confusion in his tone. "Why?"

"We don't know," Basil spoke up for the first time. "We've gathered the names of several known enemy families who could be behind it, but there's no evidence to prove it was anyone in particular."

"Then what do we do?" Enma asked, voice determined.

"For now," the Vongola Tenth suggested quietly, "I say we do nothing."

Dino half stood, his chair rocking madly in reaction to the sharp movement, and yelped, "What do you mean nothing! Our men are dying as we speak and you want to just stand there? Tsuna!"

Basil's eyes flicked between the Cavallone boss and his own, before settling back on his notes. "We do not want to alert the enemy to our suspicions. That would just make it harder to find any new information." His gaze sharpened and swept over the other men. "As long as the enemy believes we are still unaware of their plot our jobs will be much easier."

A small smirk lifted the corners of Hibari's mouth even as the others slowly understood, Dino sinking back into his chair as his mind whirled.

"We'll trick the herbivores into thinking they're safe."

The response was more of a statement than a question but Tsuna nodded anyway. "I had a few ideas that could work. Obviously if we all started combing our ranks for spies and traitors it would look suspicious. However, if we were to use our usual patterns and individual situations to our advantage..."

Xanxus's eyes were glinting now and his mouth was fairly smiling, though the way his lips curled back from his teeth belied his main thought being of anything but revenge. It reminded Tsuna of why he'd vowed to never make that man an enemy ever again. "How?"

Tsuna let his lips quirk up in a half-grin and grabbed several new papers from his folder, throwing them across the table one by one to their recipients. "I thought you could go first, actually, Xanxus."

"Oh?"

"This," Tsuna waved his own copy of the sheets, "is a record of a particular event you apparently hold every now and then. A tournament of sorts, I believe?"

That was definitely a smirk. Xanxus read over the new paper with amusement. "Using the battle to screen the trash for traitors?"

The Vongola nodded, glancing at the others as he explained. "The Varia are known to occasionally hold tournaments to decide promotions. Every member has to compete, and they all have to fill out a form about themselves in the process." Tsuna focused back on the Varia boss. "Basil has several techs and a closed network that has been deemed safe. It's yours if you need it. The screening could take a while."

Xanxus just nodded, still reading the proposal with a wicked grin on his face, and Tsuna decided to move on.

"Enma."

Said boss looked up from reading his own orders, a small, excited smile warring with a worried frown. "A new base?"

Tsuna shrugged, smiling in kind. "You can't live just on that island forever, and this is a good excuse to find another base. Screen anyone who's qualified to move with you and take only those you're completely sure are loyal. We'll find a way to deal with the rest later."

"As before," Basil added, "CEDEF's technology is available for your use."

Enma mumbled his thanks and returned to his reading, the several pages of possible locations drawing his attention.

The Vongola boss's gaze shifted to Dino and the smile fell as he saw the Bronco's grimace. "Dino, I know it would be hard-"

"Tsuna," Dino sighed, sitting back in his chair. _"You_ know I'll do whatever's necessary to protect you."

"That's what I'm worried about." Tsuna saw Enma and Basil glance between them in worry, but he ignored them in favour of concentrating on Dino. "This doesn't need to be executed immediately. The Shimon will pretend their shift has been in the pipeline for weeks and Xanxus can blame the tournament on a random whim." Tsuna sent a fond smile at said hitman, uncaring of the scowl he received in return. "You and I are going to have to wait a while before we can implement any of our own measures."

"Still," Dino responded, sounding older than he was, "screening my famiglia is going to take time. Being the second largest famiglia after your own means I have thousands of men. It would be quite easy for one to slip through the cracks."

"Which is why you're going to wait and publicly announce the reason for the screenings. Hopefully it'll push the enemy into doing something stupid and revealing themselves."

"That's..."

"Dino," Basil cut in. "It's possible that this whole mess will be resolved before we even have to implement that plan. And if you do make the announcement, Tsuna will be right there beside you. We won't let you take the fall for something that is probably caused by the Vongola."

The Cavallone boss continued to read over his papers with a frown. Silence spread throughout the room, the others unwilling to interrupt the disagreement between the Vongola and Cavallone bosses. Eventually, after rereading the entire report, Dino set it down with a sigh and massaged his temples with two fingers. "What of the time frame before we implement the plan? How many good men and women are going to die between now and then? Tsuna, I can't-"

Said brunette sighed, his shoulders imperceptibly hunching forward and his head dropping slightly. "I know, Dino. I know." After a moment's hesitation in which the mafia boss and the friend in Tsuna fought a quick battle, Tsuna stood, reached across the table and gently laid one hand on top of the fist Dino had made. "You care about your people a lot - the most, according to Fuuta - and I can understand how hard it is to sit back while someone threatens those you care about. But this is important. Your family is built on trust and respect and it's my hope that whoever has betrayed you, if anyone, will turn themselves in given enough time. You're also the least impacted by the attacks - probably for the same reasons - so your family is the safest to leave alone for now. Please Dino. We can't all act at once or it will be far too suspicious. Someone needs to go last."

"And you, Tsuna?" Dino asked, voice soft and with an edge of hoarseness to it that Tsuna didn't like. "You'll wait with me, while who-knows-how-many of your family die?"

The hand clasping Dino's clenched slightly and Tsuna drew back to sit down in his chair again. "I don't want to, but it's necessary. We've been hit the longest and the hardest, so I assume whatever the enemy's motivation, it's most likely our fault. My fault." Seeing Dino's head snap up and Enma and Basil open their mouths to refute him, Tsuna raised one hand to stop them. "That is why the Vongola will take the brunt of the attacks, hopefully reducing the casualties on your families. I will not let anyone else bear that burden."

There was silence for a minute, understanding and pain flashing briefly across even Hibari's eyes, Xanxus's lowered to attend to pouring himself a new drink. Then Dino sighed and shrugged unhappily, folding the papers so he wouldn't be tempted to read them again. "I'll think about it. If I can come up with anything better I'll let you know."

Tsuna nodded, his lips twisted in concern even as he conceded that he would get no better answer from Dino, before turning to his Cloud Guardian.

"Hibari-"

"It's fine."

A smile pulled at Tsuna's lips at the so very Hibari answer. Noticing Enma's glances and that Xanxus had finished reading his report and was watching the Skylark intently, Tsuna explained, "As Foundation is the only one of us to have not been targeted, I've asked Hibari for a different favour. His men are skilled at undercover work from infiltrating organisations for information and often have backgrounds that would catch the eye of our enemies. It's also well known that Hibari doesn't particularly like anyone, including me." Tsuna sent his Guardian a wry grin. "We'll set it up so that several of his men are 'recruited' into the Vongola and see if they can find anything from the bottom that we can't see from the top."

"The same with CEDEF," Basil added. "Though to a lesser extent as we're a much smaller organisation and the entry requisites are already quite strict."

Xanxus grinned again, eyes flashing between Hibari and Tsuna. "You gonna have a public falling out?"

Tsuna winced but nodded, while Hibari looked suspiciously like a cat who had found the cream.

"We've got a plan to hopefully make it as realistic as possible," replied Tsuna, shooting the Cloud Guardian a look that held the merest hint of anxiety.

Dino, who had been watching the conversation in confusion, suddenly grinned. "So Hibari's going to get pissed off and put spies in your ranks, eh Tsuna?"

Nodding again, Tsuna smiled briefly at the Bronco. "It's not perfect, but we'll need a way to explain what Hibari's men are doing if anyone manages to track them back to Foundation. We won't mention it unless it's necessary though."

"The enemy have very good information sources," added Basil. "Some of the missions impacted were highly secretive. We're assuming that they have a good spy network or computer techs. Probably both. We need to set as many backups and false leads in place as possible or we stand far too large a chance of being found out."

Nods came from two of the table's occupants, Hibari having returned to staring at the corner and Xanxus contemplating something within his refilled glass of amber alcohol. Tsuna smiled, relieved. "Any questions?"

Dino grinned and shook his head, the others agreeing with rather less enthusiastic responses.

"Then the last thing before I leave you to read through the reports," Tsuna continued, "is to do with the Mafia Ball tomorrow night. Enma?"

The Shimon boss nodded, pulling his own folder from a bag perched against his chair and distributing the papers within. "Someone tipped off the police and they're planning a raid on the Ball."

The response was instantaneous. Tsuna sat back, resigned, and Basil just smiled grimly, but the others shifted through shock into anger.

"What!?" Dino exclaimed. "Who would be stupid enough to do that? Everyone's going to be there, both Vongola's allies and it's enemies. And the guests - there'll probably be Chinese Triad members and everything there!"

"We can only assume it is the fault of this new faction," replied Basil, flicking through the pages in front of him. He glanced up at Enma, obviously impressed. "This is quite detailed."

Enma blushed slightly, a habit he still hadn't managed to completely break whenever he was complimented, and shuffled his own papers. "I've been undercover in the local police department."

"For two days!"

"Well," Enma murmured, studiously ignoring Basil, "being a secretary has its perks."

Xanxus laughed roughly, amusement clear on his face. "The big, bad Shimon boss has been playing secretary? Who's shitty idea was that?"

Said Shimon boss blushed again, muttering under his breath.

Tsuna almost sighed. Enma had never quite gotten used to Xanxus, and the Earth Flame user always reminded Tsuna of his initial reaction to the man. Deciding to save Enma from his shyness, Tsuna continued for him, "The raid should take place somewhere between eight and nine. The police also seem to have deemed the event a low-risk raid as they will be bringing along a squad of recruits for the experience." Xanxus barked out a laugh. Tsuna smiled. "This, of course, means we will have to hold back. I've already decided to send some of my Guardians away as soon as the fighting breaks out."

"Oi, isn't the sword trash gonna be there?"

Dino grinned at that. "Yeah, I heard you were bringing all your Guardians. How's that going to work Tsuna?"

The Vongola boss smiled, recognising the concern hidden in both questions. "Well, considering it's a masquerade..."

Basil too started grinning. "The Tenth's suggestion of using masks was taken quite well by the organisers."

"Not to mention you also have the girls on your side," added Dino. "They can make you look like anyone you want."

Tsuna nodded, caught sight of his watch and blanched. Waving one hand dismissively, he replied, "It's all sorted. Now, if there's nothing else..."

Affirmatives came from the other occupants of the table and Tsuna stood, gathering Enma's report in one hand and leaving the other to be incinerated by Basil later. "I have a meeting with Reborn to go to, but please take your time. Basil can answer any questions you have. It will only make things more difficult for all of us if anyone doesn't completely understand the situation." Pushing back his chair, giving a short bow to his fellow mafioso, Tsuna walked toward the door with a small smile on his face. Plans had been made and agreed to (even if it was only tentatively on Dino's end) and he had his friends behind him.

It was all going to be fine.

Just fine.

_Now why does it feel like I'm jinxing myself..._


	11. Of Plans and Preparations

_So, this was meant to be part of the next chapter. With the Ball. Honest! It was an intro thing (like in chapter 8 with the kids) but then it got _long_. But! Because I've already mostly written the next chapter (The Ball pt. 1), you'll be getting that in the next few days!  
_

_I sort of wanted to wait until I'd written the Ball to post this, but I'm not going to have a chance to write for a couple of days so I figured I'd post it now. Sorry it's not the chapter you were all expecting!  
_

_Also, a shout out to __**Noctuary**__ who is now officially IWC's godmother. (I'm amused that I'm writing a story about a mafia Family and the story itself is gaining a family.) I always have to laugh at reviews like that, and since she seems to have adopted IWC, I figured it was only fair. :D_

_Enjoy, and please review! I answer them all and I love chatting to people!_

* * *

"How's everyone going?"

Tsuna's voice cut through the chatter of his Family, heads all over the dressing room turning to his with varying expressions - excitement, anxiety, joy, nervousness, glee and boredom. He glanced to the side to catch Reborn, dressed as always in his black suit and fedora, nod in response and slip out through the door, Bianchi on his arm. Shamal had disappeared a good half hour ago, too impatient to wait when there were so many beautiful women to meet, and the non-Guardian members of the Kokuyo Gang plus I-Pin and Fuuta had left earlier with Lanchia as their babysitter.

Gokudera bounced over, immaculately dressed in his suit and with his mask hanging off one side of his face, grinning. "We're almost ready, Tenth! We just have to wait for the Arcobaleno to enter, then we'll start lining up. There's a five minute gap scheduled between the Arcobaleno's announcement and ours, so we'll have plenty of time then to fix up any last minute issues."

The Vongola boss nodded, as amused as ever at his right hand's over exuberant loyalty. "Then we'd best start moving." He looked around, eventually locating Kyoko, Haru and Lambo over in their own corner. Lambo was chattering away excitedly and the girls were laughing and playing along as they attempted to fix his hair and suit. Tsuna though could see the nervousness they hid behind their bright smiles and quickly moved over to them to lay a hand on each of the girls' shoulders. "You two okay?"

Haru jumped, a startled, "Hahi!" flying from her mouth, but Kyoko just nodded. She always had had the better senses.

"It feels a little odd being at one of these events as ourselves, instead of being undercover in some other Family. Even with the masks."

"It's good to have you on our side for once." Tsuna's smile morphed into a grin. "Besides, now you get to be swamped by adoring and not-so-adoring fans just like the rest of us!"

The girls laughed, Lambo breaking off his chatter to glare up at the one who had so rudely interrupted his conversation. In apology, Tsuna leaned down to ruffle the young boy's hair, undoing the girl's careful work. "You excited Lambo?"

"Of course! Lambo wants to see all the shiny lights and crystals and annoy all the stupid people," which Tsuna hopefully translated to mean the Cavallone, Shimon and Arcobaleno mafioso (thank god Lambo was still petrified of the Varia), "and try _all_ the food!"

"All the food, Lambo? That's a lot."

"Lambo will do it!"

Tsuna laughed sofly and gave Lambo's hair another ruffle. "Make sure to leave some for the rest of us then, okay? I'm sure the girls at least would like to try some of the cakes."

Haru immediately perked up, amusement and concern warring across her face. "Hahi! Lambo has to save some cake for me!"

Tsuna watched Haru and Lambo's bickering for a moment then turned and bent down so his mouth was next to Kyoko's ear, smile forcefully still in place.

"When trouble comes, find Yamamoto, take the kids and get out of here. There's a driver waiting for you a hundred metres from the back garden gate."

Kyoko head whipped around, eyes wide. "Tsu-kun...?"

The small smile relaxed into something less false and he shook his head, still whispering. "I can't explain. I'll warn Yamamoto, but promise me. I don't want any of you caught up in this, especially Yamamoto and yourselves." Tsuna was glad, not for the first time, that plural when talking to one of the two girls was understood to mean both of them. It saved so much time and potentially slipping names that shouldn't be said aloud.

Her eyes had sharpened, narrowing slightly while Kyoko thought, and Tsuna just waited. A few seconds later she nodded, lips pressed together in a moue of displeasure, and he clasped her shoulder once in thanks before standing and wandering off.

"What was that?"

Haru's voice was pitched low and quiet, a sound that wouldn't travel over, and Kyoko leaned over to whisper into her ear. Lambo, still rambling so as to not look suspicious, watched them curiously, particularly when Haru's face went through shock, anger and finally resignation as Kyoko whispered frantically to her. But then Haru nodded, the smiles were back and he forgot all about it as the girls started questioning him on how he planned to try all the food at the undoubtedly impressive banquet.

Tsuna, having drifted through the room to the other side, leaned against the wall beside Yamamoto. Both watched the others for a moment, eying Gokudera and Hibari as they glared at each other across the room, Chrome attempting to drag promises out of Mukuro to not cause chaos during the ball and Ryohei standing off to the side angrily trying to knot his tie, despite the fact that it was already past 'tangled' and into 'unfixable mess'. Then Yamamoto, gaze on Kyoko as she finally noticed her brother's plight and moved to his rescue, finally spoke.

"What's happening?"

Tsuna grimaced. He'd hoped (and sometimes he didn't know why he bothered with that particular pastime) that Yamamoto hadn't seen his exchange with Kyoko. Not that it mattered much, but now the swordsman would be watching all night for the return of the tension that had appeared in Kyoko when Tsuna told her the plan. All the Guardians were fiercely protective of the girls - all three of them - and the kids and Yamamoto in particular hated making them upset in any way.

Repeating his earlier orders in an almost-silent mutter, Tsuna wasn't surprised when the only sign of emotion Yamamoto displayed was his arm muscles tensing and his hands clenching slightly.

"Trouble?"

Tsuna nodded. "But we know almost exactly what's going to happen thanks to Enma, so it shouldn't be too much of a worry."

"You have a plan?"

"C'mon," Tsuna mumbled with a wry grin, "do you really think Reborn would leave me alone for a minute if he didn't think I was capable of making plans?"

Yamamoto laughed, his entire expression shifting to something that was almost tangibly bright. "If he ever got word of you charging in somewhere without preparation he'd have you back in training before you could say 'Chaos'!"

The brunette shuddered, though the happy and slightly wistful expression stayed. "That is not something I'd wish upon anyone, especially myself."

Yamamoto was still laughing when Gokudera appeared before them, casting a scornful look at the Rain Guardian before turning back to Tsuna with a beaming smile. "We're all set Tenth!"

Tsuna glanced around, surprised, and regarded his Family with scrutiny then pride.

Hibari was hidden in one corner, shadows almost entirely hiding him in their depths.

Looking quite resigned and sheepish though still with his customary smirk, Mukuro was diagonally opposite the Cloud in what was clearly a strategic move by Chrome who had one hand on her hip, the other clutching Mukuro's forearm in an obvious reminder to behave.

Ryohei now stood beside his sister, Haru and Lambo (who was still prattling on about who-knows what). The Sun Guardian's tie was tied perfectly, sitting flat under the collar of his yellow dress shirt and tucked into his suit (possibly partially to hide the crinkles from its earlier manglement).

And Yamamoto had stepped forward from the wall, now standing beside and grinning at a scowling Gokudera, both just in from of Tsuna.

They were all dressed in their best and looked every inch the powerful Vongola mafioso they were. Even without the masks on Tsuna could see his friends' business facades slowly slipping into place one by one and he ignored the twinge in his heart that said that he'd brought them here, to where they hid behind false faces (in some cases more so than others) and carried deadly weapons on them every moment of their lives (because it was worth their lives not to).

"We're all ready then?" A chorus of affirmatives and a round of nodding answered him, even Hibari deigning to jerk his head once in response. Tsuna glanced at Gokudera, watching at his right-hand man cracked open the dressing room's door the tiniest amount, checked the hallway then opened the door with a flourish, and grinned. Even in something as simple as that, his Family was there, supporting and protecting him.

Then he stepped forward, shadowing Yamamoto and nodding mock-regally as Gokudera bowed him out the door with a grin, and barely held back a happy laugh.

His Family was there. His friends were there. And they were with him every step of the way.

"To the Ball!"


	12. The Mafia Ball - Part One

_AND IT'S THE BALL!_

_Oh, god, that took forever. I apologise so much. If Yamamoto's scene sounds a bit dodgy that's cause that's where I got stuck, and then the girls' scene just kept going and going... There was meant to be a clash between Dino and Hibari but this chapter is long enough. I'll put that in the next one instead. As always, THANK YOU to everyone, particularly those who bugged me to update. This took a stupidly long amount of time to write. It's also only part one because, seriously, the next scene is gonna be a good 5k words all on its own. And it's going to be all action. :D_

_In lieu of my usual spiel, enjoy! This is **The Mafia Ball, part one.**_

* * *

The ballroom glittered with a thousand crystal decorations, chandeliers, light fittings, glasses, platters, statues and the numerous jewels worn by the guests. Even the dark red mahogany paneling on the walls and floor and the various crimson drapes covering the doorways and windows around the room couldn't dim the brilliance of the flickering light as it bounced across the gleaming white marble pillars and intricately molded ceiling. Hints of gold flowing up the pillars in delicate patterns of vines and flowers and coloured the railings of the overhanging balcony and the designs on the ceiling. It was a reminder of the wealth of those who owned the hall - one of the oldest families, not particularly strong but extraordinarily wealthy and completely neutral - yet it was not pretentious or excessive. Merely tastefully extravagant.

People of every race, age and profession crowded in the room, all in their very best, designer suits in various shades of grey and black mingled with the multicoloured dresses of their female companions. Each gown was a work of art - long, short, straight, belled, sleeved, sleeveless, strappy, solid, ruffled, layered, silk, satin, tulle, lace, and everything in between. It was truly a sight to behold.

Most of the guests were gathered to one side of the hall, unsuccessfully trying to look like they weren't lurking at the bottom of the sweeping staircase that was the main entrance to the hall. The lesser-known Families, having arrived first, had scattered further afield, some dancing on the main floor in the center of the hall and others at the far end picking over the drinks and snacks. They were joined by the majority of the non-mafia guests - politicians, business men, doctors, scientists, investors and even the occasional police officer who were more than just a little crooked.

The rest - almost all mafioso, almost all quite well known - had placed themselves near the staircase for one simple reason. The Arcobaleno had entered only minutes ago and by the ranking of the guests, there was only one group left. One group everyone was dying to meet for many different reasons. One group whose boss, of all those present, was the closest to being able to call himself the Godfather of the mafia. One group who were-

"The Vongola Famiglia - Vongola Decimo Tsunayoshi Sawada, his Guardians and guests."

Silence fell throughout the ballroom as every eye turned toward the top of the sweeping staircase. Red velvet curtains hanging across the grand archway on the second storey drew back slowly, gradually revealing the shadowy forms of the ten people hidden behind it.

The first to step into the light were two men; one, bearing a mask of glittering light blue and a bright smile, was a tall foreigner with short black hair and a natural grace that screamed dangerous. The other, scowling magnificntly at everyone and everything, had longer silver hair and a swirling mask of deep red. Both wore black suits and ties with shirts to match their masks and were scanning the crowd with sharp eyes.

Next came a couple, both with bright yellow masks. The woman, with long brown tresses and a shimmering pale gold dress decorated with hundreds darts and rows of small beads in lines radiating from over her heart, was smiling peacefully as she leant on the arm of her partner. He was dressed in a similarly coloured shirt and black suit, his happy grin belied by his his physique, muscles obvious even through the suit.

Twins appeared then, or so it seemed, as a man and a woman descended the stairs arm in arm with identical back-spiked purple hair and indigo lace masks. The woman, her hair bushing her shoulders, wore a rich purple chiffon gown that swirled around her like drifting mist, her partner in the customary black suit and indigo shirt.

Surprisingly, a child of nine years came into view then, clutching excitedly onto the hand of another brown-haired foreign woman. The boy wore a miniature black suit though the jacket had been left open to show off the black and white cow-print vest and green shirt underneath, no tie in sight. From his mess of curly black hair poked two cow horns. The woman beside him, smiling happily at the crowd, wore a lime green dress that rose to just above her knees in the front and brushed against the ground at the back, white-silver beads flashing across her chest. Both wore identical green masks, cut across with jagged silver lines.

There was a beat of silence, a few steps intermission, before a lone figure emerged from the shadows. Black eyes peered out from behind a plain dark violet mask, matching shirt hidden behind an immaculate black suit. The man was scowling, obviously not pleased to be there, but held his head high as he descended the steps with the predatory air of a carnivore sighting his next meal.

Complete silence held the room again as the Vongola guests descended the stairs, each pair stopping either side of the staircase on the bottom two steps, Hibari on the third step behind the Mist Guardians. All of them were alert, scanning the crowd (though Lambo was more busy locating the food tables than any threats) but each was turned so they could also watch the top of the stairs.

Ten seconds passed by. Then twenty. Thirty. Then, in the moment everyone had been waiting for, a black-suited brunette figure emerged.

Chocolate coloured spikes swayed slightly in the gentle breeze from the far windows and from behind a black half mask rich brown eyes surveyed the assembled mafioso with open happiness, the glint of wariness well hidden. Though petite, the young Vongola boss carried himself with the air of royalty; head up, shoulders back and friendly smile firmly in place. He grinned at each of his family as he passed, smile growing as they fell into step behind him. Tsuna paused at the bottom of the stairs then, as one, the Vongola bowed or curtseyed.

It took a moment, but soon enough the stunned silence was broken by applause; enthusiastic, polite, not-so-polite and the downright-mocking. Many mafioso began pushing their way through the crowd to meet the famed Vongola men and women, but it was the host who reached them first, no doubt having been tipped off as to their arrival minutes ago.

"Signor Vongola!" the rotund gentleman called as he ambled forward, one hand extended to be shook. "It is an honour for you to grace us with you presence tonight!"

Tsuna held back a wince as he thought of all the people in the room who would be all too happy to never see him again, instead smiling and grasping the man's hand. "The honour is mine for having been invited to such a significant event."

"Oh, no," the man chuckled, releasing Tsuna's hand. "We couldn't possible have a Mafia Ball without the Vongola!"

Laughing slightly himself, though more out of embarrassment, Tsuna replied, "Well, it is still an honour." Deciding a quick subject change was in order, Tsuna clamped one hand on a hovering Gokudera's shoulder and continued, "Signor, may I introduce my right hand man, Hayato Gokudera..."

* * *

Standing off the to the side with their partners and temporarily hidden by Mukuro, the three girls giggled. Everyone knew how Tsuna hated being the centre of attention and they pitied the brunette for the hell he would have to go through that night.

"Poor Tsuna," Kyoko muttered, her amusement and pity (such an un-mafioso-esque emotion) safely hidden behind her glittering yellow mask. She glanced over at Haru and Chrome, a mischievous smile in place. "Should we rescue him?"

Chrome just gave her a flat look, clearly illustrating her opinion of men who couldn't look after themselves (particularly at a _party_) , but Haru smirked evilly. "When there's a table full of cake just over there?"

Kyoko laughed. "True. Lambo," she turned to the small boy straining to pull away from Haru's restraining grip, "do you want to join us for cake?"

Lambo's eyes lit up. "Yes!" A moment's hesitation then, "Please."

Even Chrome had to smile at that. She glanced up at Mukuro questioningly. "Would you like to join us too?"

Mukuro chuckled, the creepy sound not caught by his illusion (most likely on purpose) and drawing shivers from several nearby mafioso. "No, my dear Chrome. You go enjoy yourself. I have people I wish to talk to."

Chrome frowned slightly. "No illusions."

Her companion laughed again, though it sounded more stilted, resigned and, perhaps, sheepish. "Yes. I remember what the young Vongola said." He reached out as if to ruffle her hair, paused, then settled for patting her head. "No illusions. I promise."

The female Mist Guardian nodded, apparently satisfied. Kyoko, in turn, looked up at her brother.

"Brother?"

Ryohei grinned, unwound his arm from his sister's shoulders and shook his head. "You should enjoy yourself to the extreme too, Ky-" He cut himself off with a guilty look, bowed his head slightly to Kyoko's stern look, then continued, "I have people to see too!"

Kyoko just smiled, Ryohei's slip already forgiven, and twirled around so she could link arms with the other girls. Leaning forward slightly so she could see Lambo, she let an excited grin slip onto her face. "Ready?"

"Go!" shouted Haru and Lambo, much louder than necessary, and they were gone, all four swallowed up by the crowd four steps from Mukuro's barrier.

Mukuro watched the way they had gone for a moment then glanced at Ryohei, smirked and disappeared himself. Ryohei blinked for a minute, slightly stunned by everyone's quick departures, then grinned and pumped one first in the air. "Yes! Time to meet some extreme people!" he yelled and ran off in the direction he had last seen Kaoru, not quite oblivious to the eyes tracking him.

* * *

Perched up on a balcony, glass of non-alcoholic punch in hand, Yamamoto smiled as he watched his family split up , off to go have fun in the only ways they knew how at this kind of thing. Gokudera, having been born to it, and Tsuna, because of his responsibilities, were the only ones who actually treated mafia events with any kind of respect. The rest of them, Yamamoto included, just liked to cause chaos.

A soft noise, barely more than a whisper, caught Yamamoto's attention and he grinned as he turned his gaze to the side briefly. "Hibari."

Said man hummed, the only acknowledgment most people got, and leant against the rail beside his fellow Guardian.

Minutes passed in silence, both mafioso carefully scanning the crowd, doors, windows, roof and other balconies for threats, before Yamamoto finally broke it. You really do suit the name 'skylark', don't you. Hiding away up here like this."

Hibari spared the Rain Guardian a glance, the 'like you can talk' implied perfectly well despite half his face being covered by his mask.

Yamamoto laughed, though it was pitched to not carry. "Right!"

There was another minute's silence, both returning to scanning the hall. Then-

"But my box weapon is a swallow - one of them anyway - so I suppose I deserve a bird title too. Do you think I could do it? I'm starting to get kind of sick of the ghost thing."

Hibari just frowned, not responding, but he didn't need to. None of them liked ghosts anymore. Not since they had truly joined the mafia.

A movement, oddly like someone drawing a weapon and too close to the Tenth for their comfort, drew their attention. Moments later Yamamoto grinned and Hibari huffed as they watched Tsuna place a calming hand on Gokudera's arm. Apparently one of the many bosses talking to Tsuna - now shaking violently at whatever Gokudera had said and retreating quickly - must have said something Gokudera didn't like.

Another minute passed, the chatter of the ball washing over them, then-

"Omnivore, why are you up here"

Yamamoto laughed briefly, grin ridiculously wide because of both the name and the fact that he'd actually gotten Hibari to start a thread of conversation. And it had only taken ten minutes! Surely that broke Gokudera's record.

"Because it's easier." Hearing the quiet hum, even if Hibari didn't acknowledge him in any other way, Yamamoto shrugged and continued. "I can't afford to be recognised and despite the girls' work," he patted the foam padding covering his torso, giving him a broader chest and shoulders, "there's still tells. My mannerisms, for one. My speech patterns, particularly my accent, much as I've tried to get rid of it. Hell if someone planned ahead they could record my voice, check it against a database and bam, they've found me. Even doing everything I can to avoid interviews I've still had to do a few and it wouldn't take much to pull up a record of me speaking."

Hibari glanced at him, only a brief flicker of his eyes to the eyes, but it was telling enough. Yamamoto shrugged. "It's not like I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this, and it's fun being the mysterious guy, but sometimes I wish I could just do what the others do, y'know?"

Another hum, though lower and more of a 'you're an idiot' noise than anything else, and Yamamoto laughed again. "Of course, you're the Cloud, so this kind of thing is normal for you."

Hibari sent him another glance - a 'you're an idiot' mixed with a 'now you notice' glare - but then his head whipped back around and a feral grin lit his face, small but oh so scary.

Yamamoto hummed, vaguely annoyed at losing the other man's attention, then winced as he followed Hibari's gaze. A certain blonde Italian had just separated from his subordinates to chat with a nearby boss.

"Hibari..." Yamamoto tried, voice coaxing, but the Cloud was already gone, suit coat fluttering behind him as he unconsciously shrugged his arms out of the sleeves. Hibari hadn't changed much over the years and his most famous traits remained his hatred of crowding, herbivores, loud noises, restrictive clothing and the Cavallone boss. All of which were present at that moment.

Yamamoto sighed, leaning forward slightly on the railing to keep Hibari in view, and mentally added bird watching to his lift of duties for the night.

* * *

Tsuna frowned as he ducked away from yet another boss asking for his help with some minor little problem. Seriously, were these people capable of doing anything themselves?

"Boss," Gokudera murmured. Tsuna glanced at him and the Storm Guardian tipped his head to the left slightly. Tsuna followed the motion and almost smiled. Just who he wanted to see.

"Don Cuchillo!"

Said man turned, his conversation partner sparing the Vongola boss only a quick nod before melting into the crowd, and Cuchillo boss smiled warmly. "Don Vongola. It has been too long."

Tsuna shook the offered hand, snagging a glass of wine as a server ambled past. "I heard the cells only managed to hold you for three days this time. Was your stay comfortable?"

Cuchillo nodded, taking a sip of his own tumbler of some golden liquid. "I believe the police have almost given up on trying to hold me. Especially with the number you did on my mansion this time, Vongola. There was absolutely nothing left!"

Gokudera snorted quietly, holding back a grin and a laugh. Tsuna had no such reservations. "I'd apologise for Hibari's over-eagerness but I'm afraid that once I start I won't ever be able to stop. He didn't destroy anything particularly valuable, did he?"

"No, no, it's fine," Cuchillo rumbled. "The place was little more than an archive. I keep the valuables elsewhere. You found the information you needed though?"

"Yes," Tsuna replied. "It was unfortunate that we weren't able to make a deal, but I understand your neutrality makes handling sensitive information difficult. Hibari was rather ruthless in destroying the evidence but we've almost finished sorting through all the records we took and we'll return them to you as soon as possible. The computer files might take a little longer, but..."

"Don't worry about it!" Don Cuchillo gulped down a mouthful of his drink, round cheeks starting to pink from all the alcohol. "The compensation you sent through more than covers it, Don Vongola, and the police are none the wise. I'm still just an eccentric, rich old man to them. Despite having visited their cells half a dozen times." He winked. "Let me know if you ever feel the need to raid my archives again, Don Vongola. I've been thinking of taking a holiday for a while now." And he ambled off, gait the slightest bit unsteady.

Tsuna just grinned, shook his head at the weird and wacky methods that made up the convoluted mess called the mafia, and turned to wander in the opposite direction, Gokudera a step behind and to his right as usual.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for the girls and Lambo to cross the hall to the refreshment tables, despite being waylaid no less than a dozen times by various female mafioso. Every time they would barely get past introductions before the women would find somewhere else to be or would be quickly hauled away by wary partners, Chrome smiling benignly and Haru and Kyoko giggling madly. There was something to be said about having a reputation as kickass spies or a psychotic illusionist (and Mukuro still winced when anyone mentioned that incident - Chrome had not been pleased with his little 'prank').

Lambo, of course, just wanted cake, though he was keeping an eye out for I-Pin, Fuuta and Rauji. In the interests of getting to the food more quickly he simply ignored all the annoying mafioso, giving his name when prompted.

The caterers, it turned out, had outdone themselves. Delicacies and deserts from around the world decorated the four massive tables, including some Japanese puddings and sweets that had undoubtedly been hurriedly organised after the Vongola's late invitation acceptance.

Haru and Kyoko immediately helped themselves to a selection of rich cakes and slices, Chrome satisfied by a pastry or two and a thick slice of tiramisu. Lambo had jumped on the Japanese offerings, a small pile of the round mochi springing up on his plate, though he added some cakes after seeing Chrome's choices.

They spent a pleasant hour and a half an hour eating and chatting at one of the small tables in the seating area of the hall, joined ten minutes in by I-Pin, Fuuta and Bianchi, all with their own delicious plates of food and occasionally visited by other friends - members of the Shimon, Cavallone, Giglio Nero, CEDEF or Arcobaleno mainly. It was fun, and the tension in the green room before was almost forgotten in the midst of genuine smiles and laughter.

Of course, being the Vongola, invariably something had to go wrong.

It was as Haru, Kyoko and Chrome were returning from a trip to the drinks tables, Bianchi staying behind to watch the kids, that they were approached by a well-dresses man. His suit was of an expensive make, the silk shirt and silver pocket watch further attesting to his wealth. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back roughly, purposefully messy, and he carried himself with arrogance, though his build and stride spoke of the ability to back it up. Maybe.

"Good evening ladies. I hope you are enjoying yourselves?" the man asked, bowing slightly.

While Haru frowned, mind already analysing the situation, and Chrome sent a carefully worded mental warning to Mukuro, Kyoko smiled and dipped a small curtsey. As the most diplomatic and controlled of the three they had long ago delegated 'talking to weird strangers' to her.

"Good evening, sir. It has been a most entertaining night indeed." Kyoko smiled, letting her eyes widen innocently. "The culinary creations are exquisite."

"I am glad." The man grinned back, dimples forming in either cheek. "My name is Marco Rivincita, by the way. The heir to the Rivincita Famiglia."

Kyoko nodded in acknowledgment, just the slightest dip of her head. Using one hand to indicate she replied, "This is Chrome Dokuro, the female Vongola Mist Guardian, and Primavera." Lowering her lashes coyly she added, "You may call me Aurora. I would offer a hand but as you can see..." She gently waved the two glasses of punch in her hands.

Marco darted forward then, taking a glass from her hand then capturing it in his own and raising it so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. "You are far too beautiful to be doing such menial work, _tesoruccio."_ He lowered her hand gently, and sent a flirtation smile Haru and Chrome. "It is a pity I do not have three hands, but if you would like I could carry another glass for you?"

Haru and Chrome glanced at each other and reached an almost immediate decision, Haru sashaying forward slightly to offer one of the glasses of wine she had been holding. Haru and Kyoko both needed their hands to fight but Chrome could cause all hell to break loose with just her mind, so her holding two glasses wasn't as much of a problem.

"I would appreciate it, signore." She glanced sideways at Kyoko, matching the amused glint in her eye, before stepping far into Marco's space. "I may have had a little too much to drink, and I was worried about spilling the wine." And she giggled and took a sip from her remaining glass as he took the other, swirling the stem between her fingers for effect. "It would be such a waste."

"Indeed," Marco murmured, looking down the few inches difference between them and coincidentally getting a eyeful of Haru's chest. The girls shared another look, this time including Chrome, and Kyoko almost wanted to sigh. This was a play she and Haru had put on many times before and the results were almost ridiculously easy to predict - with Haru flirting and acting half drunk, the ones who wanted intelligent conversation would flock to the calm and collected Kyoko and those who wanted something else - information or a good time - would gravitate toward Haru. Not that they ever got anywhere with it: as soon as they had deciphered the targets motivations Haru and Kyoko would drop the men and get out of there as quick as possible. Unfortunately they were currently at the Ball and running wasn't particularly possible.

Haru started up a flirtatious discussion of the various wines on offer, vague innuendos laced throughout her ramblings, and Kyoko used the distraction to have a quick silent conversation with Chrome, their eyes both flickering over the ballroom to spot the rest of their family.

Bianchi was watching discretely from her seat, a small frown showing her concern. Ryohei had found Colonello and was loudly reciting some match or another but between wild gesticulations he would glance toward Kyoko and the girls. Yamamoto, high up in his balcony, was watching the whole proceeding with his mouth hidden behind his glass. Tsuna was still in the thick knot of bosses near the entrance, Gokudera at his shoulder and constantly scanning the room though his eyes tended to linger on the girls and the kids. Mukuro and Hibari had melted into the shadows somewhere and it was only due to Chrome's mental prodding that she noticed slight shift in the shadows beside a pillar on the opposite side of the hall to Yamamoto.

Kyoko glanced back at Chrome, staring for a moment, watching as Chrome's hand clenched as if around her trident's handle and her eyes darted sideways, then Kyoko nodded. They had a plan, had thought it all out over a year ago, and Chrome thankfully still remembered her place in it.

Tuning back into Haru and Marco's conversation, even after what amounted to only a couple of minutes, was almost painful. Marco was obvious drunk off of having Haru - a powerful spy and assassin from the upper ranks of the Vongola - hanging onto his every word. Now that Kyoko truly looked she realised he could have been older than his early twenties, close to their age, and she almost felt pity for him. Most likely he'd been goaded into confronting them by his mates and now, despite the slick facade, he was being easily dragged in by Haru's tricks.

"Excuse me," a soft voice muttered. Marco paused, spiel on the difference between Italian and French grapes cut short as Chrome shuffled slightly, a small smile turning her usually blank expression into one of utmost beauty. "Sorry, but Mukuro is calling so..."

Haru just grinned and waved a hand negligently, appearing unconcerned with her friend's departure, already turning back to where she had snuggled into Marco's side. Kyoko in comparison frowned then smiled and waved as Chrome disappeared through the crowd in the direction of her partner.

"He-ey, why don't we sit down somewhere? We can talk more comfortably then!" Haru exclaimed, purposefully slurring slightly as she drank down more of her almost empty glass of wine. The drunkenness was a complete act, Kyoko knew - both of them had been subjected to too many of Bianchi's dangerous substances to be much affected by anything any more - but it was a good act. Marco was completely fooled, even supporting Haru's weight slightly as she leaned on him.

Kyoko smiled indulgently and took one her second glass back from Marco, stepping backwards as if to leave. "You go ahead. The kids are probably missing their drinks and Bianchi will go crazy if she has to look after them for too long."

Haru nodded happily, pulling slightly on Marco's arm to turn him away but suddenly he was frowning slightly, holding firm against her. A second later the beatific, flirty mask was back in place and he was reaching one hand toward Kyoko.

"Now, now, surely you can stay?"

The girls shared a glance, hidden by quick scowls - usually the man would have picked one of them by now, but Marco seemed to be trying to keep them both which was new - and Haru tugged on Marco's arm again. "It doesn't matter if Aurora doesn't want to come with us, does it?"

"And I would just be in the way," Kyoko added with a smile. "Primavera is far more social than I."

But Marco was shaking his head, the pinching around the corners of his smile the only sign of his frustration. "Hardly, signora Aurora. One so beautiful could not be unskilled at conversation."

Haru whined, tugging again, though her eyes where dancing from where they were hidden from Marco's view. Kyoko let herself frown, one hand rising to tug lightly on the skirt of her dress. She flicked her eyes over Marco, then to Haru, before demurely down to the ground. "I don't know..."

Suddenly Marco brightened and Kyoko felt her mind sink in to defensive mode. "Is this jealousy?" the mafia heir questioned and, yes, there was the arrogance. "You shouldn't fight over me, ladies. There is plenty to go around." He winked, and that set Kyoko's teeth on edge for an entirely different reason. Time to get out of there. Haru could deal with the rest.

"I'm sorry, but I really should go. It was a pleasure meeting you." And Kyoko turned, determined to get out of there as soon as possible but then-

"Come now, surely the great Primavera and Masked Courtesan can share-"

Kyoko whirled, dropping both glasses, hands flicking against the sun-patterned lines of her dress. Haru was already in motion, wine forgotten, as she slammed a hand into the Rivincita heir's solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping for air, and she kicked the backs of his knees to send him crashing to the ground. A hand in his hair pulled him up to a kneeling position then Kyoko was there with one hand on the back of his neck and a narrow blade pressed to his throat.

Dead silence rippled through the crowd as a large space opened up around the two girls. Neither moved for several long seconds, Kyoko focused on Rivincita in case he retaliated and Haru scanning for outside threats. When nothing happened Kyoko crouched down and in a voice much harsher, rougher, than her normal soft tones whispered, "_Do not call me that."_

Rivincita shivered, trying to discretely shuffled back from the blade, but Kyoko's hand on his neck held him firm. He whimpered then, the rich and arrogant mafia heir facade completely gone, and Kyoko almost pitied him. Almost. Someone had needed to be made an example of before that name got out of control and he had been conveniently stupid enough to use it.

"Aurora, Primavera."

Kyoko didn't move in case Rivincita tried anything, but Haru turned with a tight smile. Tsuna was approaching them, Gokudera at his heels, and the crowd was parting like the Red Sea before them. He looked calm, if angry, but his Family could see the tightness in his stride and the lack of a spark in his eyes that said he was not happy.

"What happened?"

Kyoko did glance up then, standing and taking two steps back in one smooth movement, tucking the blade back into the fold of her bodice it had come from. Haru moved to stand beside her and Chrome materialised from nowhere, causing several in the ring of spectators to gasp and step back, proving that she had been watching over them the whole time. Mukuro wasn't far behind her, Ryohei appearing from the other side of the little clearing, keeping her distance. Because of her secret identity he couldn't get too close, in case someone connected the dots and realised they were siblings. Entering the ball as partners tonight had been an exception, because walking down those stairs with anyone else would have just been strange.

"He used _that name_," Haru muttered, and that was all the explanation Tsuna needed. The polite mask fell from his face and his eyes gained a golden glow, his Flame simmering just under the surface.

A commotion off to the side drew the Vongolas' attention. An older man was shouldering his way through the crowd, his eyes twitching between Tsuna, Kyoko and the Rivincita heir. His voice, muttering, "Excuse me," and "Please, move," repeatedly, made Marco look up sharply and then he was there, standing half in front of the younger man.

"Don Angelo Rivincita."

Said boss bowed, quickly and deeper than was necessary. "Don Vongola. I must apologise. I don't know what my son did, but whatever it was-"

"He called one of my closest a prostitute, Don Rivincita. You should be able to comprehend why that would offend." Tsuna's voice was icy, strong in a way he rarely had to use. It was in moments like these that he truly looked like an infamous mafia boss.

"I didn't!" The Rivincita heir tried to stand, his father's hand on his shoulder all that kept him down. "I would never- It was- It's just a name! I didn't know-"

"It is not _just a_ _name," _Tsuna hissed, and the fury in his eyes and posture were obvious enough that several mafioso near him took a step back. "It is a derogatory, sexist and incredibly insulting slur made up by those who don't know the first thing about what the girls do!"

Marco cowered and Angelo stepped sideways to hide his son better. If anything, Tsuna had to admire the man's loyalty. But he wasn't done yet.

"You!" he yelled, and swept an arm out to encompass all the watching mafioso. "All of you! You made up this name, with your rumours and gossip mongering. On false claims you decided my Aurora wasn't worth your respect, that she wasn't worthy of being measured by her strengths and abilities like anyone else - like any of the _men_ - are. Until now it has only been a savage rumor, but I won't let you continue it any more." Turning, Tsuna locked gazes with everyone who would and glared at those who ducked their heads. He took the few steps to stand by Kyoko, throwing one arm around her shoulders in a show of support and loyalty. "From now on, this," and he let his Flames flicker to life on his forehead, "is Aurora. Anyone who _ever_ speaks the name 'Masked Courtesan' ever again will answer to _me_, _understand?_"

There was a murmur of agreement, most of the gathered mafioso too shocked or cowed to do anything else. The few who didn't Tsuna glared down until they bowed their heads in submission.

And, of course, it was right at that moment, with almost every attending mafioso gathered in a clump in the centre of the ballroom floor, that the side doors crashed open with a bang and a loud voice called out, "Police! Don't move!"


	13. The Mafia Ball - Part Two

_Hello all! As usual, sorry for the time between updates. I sort of sat on this one for a while because it annoys me but I finally figured it's not going to get any better, so, update! Losing my notes half way through did _not_ help._

_When I get writer's block (which is a lot) I tend to draw, and I'm going to uploading my __**IWC sketches**__ to my deviantART account (username's Ocearna; link on profile). They're not particularly _good_, per se, but I thought people might like them. -shrugs- Should be up sometime tomorrow. _

_Chapter dedicated to **Maso-chan** who offered, all those chapters ago, to shoot him when the Sergeant asked someone to. Didn't turn out quite how I originally planned or how you probably expected but hey.  
_

_I had to make a _chart _and_ diagrams_ to keep track of where everyone is in this chapter. 300+ characters at once? Why not. Also, __**warnings for violence and death**__.__This is the mafia, kiddos!_

**Note: **___Sbirro - _Italian slang for policeman. It's a very vulgar word, used mainly by criminals. (Wikipedia)  


_Anyway, onto the chapter! __**The Mafia Ball, part two. **_

* * *

Tsuna took a few seconds to just stand there and curse his luck and every deity he could think of. Sure, he knew this was coming, but didthey_ have _to pick_ such a bad time!?_

Then the moment was over and Tsuna was digging through his inner coat pocket, shedding the heavy material as he went, then slipping the clip of his wireless headphones over his ears. He watched, from the corner of his eye, as his Guardians and Family did the same, scattering across the room to more defensible areas, even as many of the other mafioso panicked and began running every which way.

"Xanxus!"

Tsuna could tell the yell had surprised his Family but he didn't have time to explain, instead ducking behind one of the columns supporting the balcony. He was just in time too, as Wrath Flame bullets and a dozen strangely-shaped knifes flew past, smashing most of the lights in the hall. The screams of the panicking mafioso and few civilians ratcheted up another decibel or two, but Tsuna ignored it, too busy running the many plans through his head.

The officers had flowed into the hall through the far doors, both on the ground floor and along the balconies, and arranged themselves in a semicircle around the exits at that end of the room. The largest group, numbering two dozen or so, had converged at the foot of the grand staircase. Two smaller groups were either side of the stairs about halfway up, another two crouched behind the rail at the top. A good eight groups of five were scattered across the floor around the base of the stairs and the nearby doors, and several more were guarding that end of the balconies by the sound of it. The four side doors nearest to Tsuna - the only other side doors both on the ground floor and upstairs - had clanged ominously shut a few seconds ago and it was highly likely that they had been sealed off. The only other exits were the two doors onto the outside landing, and the only place to go from there was the gardens. Which were probably swarming with officers and ringed by a perimeter with orders to shoot first, ask questions later. That was going to make things difficult...

"Jyuudaime!?"

Jumping slightly and smiling at the familiar sound of Japanese - they always used a foreign language over the headsets these days, in case someone was listening in - Tsuna answered in kind, "Count off."

The nicknames rang in quickly - Storm, Rain, Sun, Thunder, Mist and Fog, Cloud, Spring, Dawn, Gyoza, Prince, Scorpion, Mosquito - followed by Enma's quiet, "Shimon, ready," Dino's excited, "Cavallone, check," and Yuni's happy, "Giglio Nero, present." Even Xanxus's silence and Reborn's, "Get ready, Dame-Tsuna," only made Tsuna grin, relaxing into the familiar feel of being surrounded by his friends.

"Tsuna," Yamamoto's voice filtered through the radios, he himself still hidden up on a balcony. "How many were you expecting?"

"Inside the hall, the recruits plus six full squads at least. Why?"

"I can only count four and about half the recruits."

Cursing came through in Gokudera's voice. "They've done a bigger perimeter, probably sent some around the back to catch people as they try to escape. Or they've run into trouble."

Tsuna frowned, ducking back behind his pillar as he tried to reason through the situation, having been surreptitiously watching the school-yard name-calling that the officers and the mafioso had begun fighting with. "They weren't supposed to be here for at least another half hour too. And the plans Enma got said there would only be a standard perimeter. What's changed?"

"Boss?" Chrome called, only the barest hint of her old timidity still present in her voice. "Mukuro's gone."

More swearing cut off as Gokudera muffled his microphone. Tsuna was glad he had remembered the warning about cursing around the kids.

"Why?" Tsuna sighed.

"He said there were rabbits in the wolves' den and he felt like going hunting."

Half wanting to sigh in frustration and half wanting to snicker at the very Mukuro-esque reasoning and pointedly ignoring Yamamoto's laughter, Tsuna leant around his column again to glance at the crowd in the hall, the mafioso and police's negotiations having degenerated completely into just yelling insults at each other. He winced as a particularly short and stocky boss screamed obscenities across the gap and the head of the police force - the Sergeant, if he remembered Enma's descriptions right - stepped forward and began roaring back, spittle flying.

"Basil, do you mind..."

"Not at all, Tenth." Tsuna watched the CEDEF boss peel away from his shadowed corner and disappear through one of the back doors. As one of the few mafioso Mukuro could actually stand for extended periods of time - something about being amusing and far too proper - he was the best choice for backup. Trying to call Mukuro back from a rampage was near impossible; sending Basil or Chrome to curb his murderous impulses worked much better.

Tsuna jerked as a gunshot rang out, a surprised but quickly muffled cry echoing over the comm. Lambo, no doubt - he had a thing about guns thanks to Reborn.

The first shot was quickly followed by a second, then a third and soon the room was filled with the noises of battle as the mafioso and police charged at each other, weapons of all types flashing in the half light of the ball room.

Time to move.

"Rain, girls, you have your orders. Go. Gokudera, cover them until they're out of the line of fire."

"Tsuna-"

"Jyuudaime?"

"Go!"

Five shadows, two quite a bit smaller than the others, shifted on the other side of the hall, soon joined by a fourth that had been hidden behind a nearby column. Tsuna felt a sliver of tension ease from his shoulders as he watched them go but quickly turned back to the battle royale being played out only metres from him.

"Trident. What are you going to do?" Tsuna was well aware that Shamal wasn't suited for this kind of skirmish.

"Well... There's all these civs trying to escape..."

Tsuna smiled as he spotted the group of terrified, well-dressed women huddled in one corner. "Bianchi?

"If you think I'm leaving Reborn alone in this mess..."

Muffling a laugh, Tsuna grinned. Some things never changed, thank god. "Shamal, go. Get them somewhere safe then send a warning to headquarters. Make sure everyone's on alert in case someone decides to use this as a distraction."

"Righto. See you all later!" came Shamal's happy reply, his form suddenly appearing on the balcony above the frightened women, flipping over and landing on his feet in front of them. The women shied back from him, obviously frightened, but after a lot of hand waving and exuberant explanations they seemed to get the point. Briefly Shamal looked vaguely annoyed at their lack of cooperation, but his smile came back as he started directing the group toward a back corner to the outside balcony that lead down into the gardens.

"Tsuna, my men are on the move. CEDEF's with us."

Dino's voice snapped Tsuna back to reality, his mind spinning through the various plans again.

"The Giglio Nero too."

"Good." Tsuna could almost feel the confusion and curiosity radiating from most of his Family but ignored it, knowing they would find out soon enough. "Enma?"

"Done," came Enma's quiet voice, the background sound of the comm lacking the battle noises that had outlined everything else in the conversation so far. Tsuna sighed in relief, running through a mental check list.

"Reborn? Xanxus?"

"Trash-"

"Just start already, Dame-Tsuna."

"Right." Tsuna stuck his head around his pillar once more, ducking back to check the other side a second later. "I can count sixty officers in direct view, and I'm estimating at least twenty more upstairs. No doubt there's more in the hallways and at least a third of the whole force guarding the perimeter. They're not our problem though. For now, the Vongola, Varia and Arcobaleno need to get this hall cleared, understand?"

A chorus of agreements came through his headphones, the Varia's slightly creepy as always, and Tsuna smiled. Really, there was nothing he couldn't do when he had so many people behind him.

"You've got thirty seconds to get into position. When I say, we're going to surge up the sides of the hall and along the balconies. Get in front of the other mafioso and create a barrier between them and the police. Where possible try to bring the fighting to a standstill," Tsuna said, because calling it a truce wouldn't go down well with most of his people, sadly enough. "Fighting the officers will do nothing but cause casualties - we need to get everyone out of here."

The sounds of a brief scuffle on the other end of the comm was almost expected, as was the slight swearing. Shadows around the hall detached themselves from their hiding places, slipping into new positions, using the chaos of the police-mafia war as cover.

"Twenty," Tsuna counted aloud, watching protectively as a Lambo-sized shadow shimmied up a column and onto the second level.

"Ten."

Reborn and Hibari had taken opposite sides of the hall. Smart.

"Five."

Someone _really_ needed to remind Xanxus his guns glowed.

"Four."

Well, this would be fun.

"Three."

Maybe.

"Two..."

"One-"

The roar of Xanxus's guns cut Tsuna off. Without waiting he dashed forward, letting his Flame explode into life and dodging the milling mafioso. Cutting through the crowd he leapt to the front of the fight, taking the nearest officer by surprise when he slammed the side of his hand into the man's throat. Others turned at the noise, guns raised, but Tsuna was quicker and a wall of Zero Point ice rose behind him, shielding the mafioso from the spray of bullets. Then Ryohei was there, grinning madly, and they whirled through the first row of officers, back to back, disarming where possible and disabling the rest.

Across the hall and through the comm Tsuna could hear Xanxus laughing, his guns never stopping. He heard Skull mock an officer before having his prey stolen by Reborn. Chrome reported that police reinforcements had tried to open the barred doors - she was holding them shut, but there were plenty of other ways in on their side of the hall. Marmon was spinning illusions to confuse the officers and mafioso, making their bullets miss and their minds cloud. A cackle overhead and a responding twitter located Bel and Lussuria.

And yet Tsuna and Ryohei plowed on, leaving shell-shocked police and mafioso in their wake as they moved forward, pressing along the divide between the two groups and towards the centre of the confrontation. Behind them came Fon and Bianchi, then later Hibari. They held the line between the officers and the mafioso, bringing the fight to a stalemate.

It felt like an hour of hyper-aware, restrained fighting, but Tsuna guessed it was more like ten minutes, if that. Then suddenly he was there, Ryohei on one side, Xanxus on the other. The Sergeant was turned, mouth open as if to yell at a figure off to the side, and as such had missed Tsuna pushing his way through the idiotic mafioso to stand right in front of him.

And that wasn't according to plan at all, so Tsuna did the first thing he could think of.

"Hello Sergeant."

* * *

The battle was going well. He had recognised several notorious Dons who would make his career if he brought them in and the perimeter and infiltration squads had reported that a good dozen high-ranking mafioso were now in custody. Even the recruits were behaving, the worst half of them on the furthest perimeter and the not-so-dismal few on door duty under Junior's watchful eye, preventing any more mafioso from leaving the ballroom.

Thank god the Brats weren't in either team. That would be hell.

The Sergeant spotted a group of mafioso break off and try to run for one of the far balcony doors. With a growl he turned to signal Junior, knowing the man couldn't see them from his shelter behind the staircase, then froze, a shiver running down his spine. The fight had stilled - even his officers were ceasing fire, against direct orders no less, and a hush was spreading over the mafioso from the furthest corners of the room. The ringing in his ears from close-quarter gun fire had messed with his hearing but now he could _see it_, see it and match the more-ringing-than-gunshots noise in his head to the truth. In company like this, surrounded by mad, blood-thirsty mafioso, there was only one thing that could get that kind of reaction. Just one Family; one Don-

"Hello Sergeant."

The Sergeant whipped back around, his expression morphing into a snarl of rage as he settled into a defensive crouch. This was one opponent he was not going to underestimate.

"Vongola." The Sergeant let his eyes flicker over the room, heart clenching as he cataloged the new appearances. Sun, Lightning, Cloud, female Mist, Poison Scorpion, Varia and even the Arcobaleno of all the goddamn luck. Where the hell had they come from!?

Vongola didn't smile but the sharp glimmer of Flames in his eyes was just as good a warning. "Something wrong?"

"You aren't supposed to be here," the Sergeant spat. He ran the information through his head again - a missing jet, tickets, motel bookings, canceled events - it all lined up! "You're supposed to be in Japan, visiting family and the Foundation headquarters. You- You declined the Mafia Ball invitation weeks ago!"

Vongola nodded genially. "We did. And then we accepted, last minute, when our other plans fell through."

"Shit." Harsher words ringing through his mind, the Sergeant frantically surveyed the hall. This mission was meant to be _easy_. Safe, even, which was the only reason he had agreed to letting the recruits tag along. A run-of-the-mill infiltrate-and-arrest mission with _no Vongola!_ But this- This was way beyond what he had planned for. Never mind the Vongola - the Varia _never_ attended social events, and most of the Arcobaleno avoided them unless _absolutely_ necessary. And if they were here then-

"Fuck!" the Sergeant cursed. "Your allies. Where- The Cavallone and- and-"

"They're here," Vongola answered. "Or, they were. I'm not entirely sure where they are now though."

"Damn it!" Flicking the communicator in his ear, quickly switching through several channels, the Sergeant winced at the dead silence on some of them. His officers had been ordered to maintain quiet radio contact as all times - they were more worried about losing people than staying silent - and the lack of a response when he barked a question into the comm on each silent channel said it all. His men were out for the count - dead, potentially - and all because he had trusted his intel, trusted his people, trusted the _Vongola_, too much.

"Sergeant," Vongola tried, cutting through his mental rant. His gaze was sharp, his stance as much protecting the mafioso behind him as keeping them back. "We don't want to have to hurt anyone. Call off this raid now, and we'll all leave quietly." Shouts rose from behind him - far back in the crowd, not anywhere near Vongola himself - but two shots into the air - one Flame, one metal - from either side shut them up. Even in his pissed off state the Sergeant had to admire the Vongola's control over the other mafioso. From a quick count there was only a total of twenty Vongola, Arcobaleno and Varia holding the line between the mafioso and the police, both on the ground level and up in the balconies, and yet not a single hostile shot had fired since the Vongola Decimo had pushed his way to the front.

"Why should I believe you?" The Sergeant growled, watching from the corner of his eye as Junior shifted forward to cover his back. Good kid, that one, if a little slow at times. One of the best when it counted though, which was all that mattered. "What's to say you won't start shooting the instant we turn our backs?"

Vongola indicated his people, scattered in an arching line across the ballroom, with a wave of a hand. "My family will guarantee it. Let the others go first, all the other mafioso, and once they're clear we'll retreat at the same time. Deal?"

The Sergeant scoffed, voice low. "I'm not stupid, Vongola. I don't make deals with mafioso."

"And we don't make deals with the police!" came a yell from the back of the room. Other mafioso cheered, raising their weapons into the air in agreement, and his police shifted in response. Vongola looked pained, the curiously blank expression turning to a slightly frown, and several of his people turned to glare.

Other voices joined in, still only coming from those at least half a dozen people back from the Vongola line. "Let us at 'em!" was one of the loudest, echoed by a, "The _sbirro _don't deserve mercy, Vongola!" An answering, "Shut up, you bastards!" echoed down from the police end of one of the balconies and a murmur went through the police in response.

"This isn't gonna work, Vongola." The Sergeant sent a meaningful look around at the brewing chaos. "You can try to negotiate all you want, but the rest of the mob ain't gonna go along with it."

Vongola glanced to the either side, meeting the eyes of the Varia and Arcobaleno leaders, and appeared to hold a silent conversation with both. Eventually he sighed and turned back, his Flames reducing slightly. "I wish they would, but apparently not. Fine then; Plan B."

An instinctual reaction had the Sergeant aiming his gun straight at Vongola before he had even thought about it. The police either side of him jumped to attention at the movement; guns raised, targets locked. On one side of the hall those targets were purely Vongola, the other mafioso hidden behind the Decimo's ice wall - and how the _hell_ had he done that!? - but that was fine. A Vongola - any Vongola - was worth ten times any other mafia bastard.

Plan B, it turned out, wasn't to start attacking as the Sergeant had feared. It was, instead, the boom of an explosion from deep inside the mansion and the sudden screaming of a dozen or so alarms, both within the room and outside.

"What have you done?" The Sergeant asked with wide eyes and his voice raised over the clamouring of the mafioso who were suddenly more worried about getting trapped in a burning building than the police pointing guns at their heads.

"Nothing," Vongola replied. "We've been here the entire time."

"What did you have _ordered_ done!?"

"Nothing," Vongola repeated, raising his arms slightly in a universal 'I didn't do it' gesture. "I asked for a distraction, they provided."

The Sergeant growled. This was getting him nowhere and now there was the added risk of having the building collapse on their heads if they didn't get out soon enough. Not to mention that a good portion of the mafioso had taken the explosion as a sign that things were getting out of hand and run, disappearing out the back doors and down into the garden.

"Who's 'they'?"

"Friends." Vongola's lips twisted upwards slightly into the tiniest of smiles. "Friends who agreed that letting your raid continue tonight would be unproductive."

"And all the people?" the Sergeant asked. "All the staff and personnel running the mansion, all the mafioso wandering the halls. You're just going to let them die?"

Vongola shrugged, face once more poker-face blank. "They're been dealt with."

"Dealt with-" the Sergeant choked, a lifetime's understanding of the Vongola crashing down around him. _Justice_, he'd called them. _Righteous_, and _moral_. God, how had he been so _blind!? _"There were seventy-three people on roster tonight, plus a hundred and thirty-nine guests. You're going to just let them all die here?"

"And eighty-three police officers, Sergeant." Vongola was hedging, obviously, but, shit, he had a point. These men were his responsibility and their lives were a far more important than capturing a bunch of mafioso. But to get out would require getting past all the mafioso. How the hell-

A crash, back and off to the left slightly, set the Sergeant scowling even harder. That had sounded like a major support beam, and if it had been then they didn't have much time left. He needed to get his men out of there _now_.

"Sergeant," Vongola called once again. This time his voice was stronger, more demanding. "Call off the raid. Let us leave peacefully, and we'll let you pull your men back without a fight. The Vongola will assure it."

It was too good. The Sergeant almost agreed, almost went along with it, but _there had been almost three hundred people in this building _and didn't that completely destroy any trust he had had for the Vongola. Instead he shook his head and stepped back, mind whirring through the possible escape routes. "No. I can't trust you. I _won't_ trust you. There has to be-"

Vongola frowned, a glance of his eyes to check on his people betraying his otherwise emotionless expression, and raised his hands again. "Sergeant, we need to compromise. None of us are going to get out of here otherwise."

"No! That isn't- There _has_ to be-"

Several things happened at once.

Vongola stepped forward, hands upraised as if to plead his case.

Another beam fell, to the right this time and only a couple of rooms over.

Cries went up from the left as heavy black smoke began pouring from one of the doorways the police had been guarding - the kitchens were right next door, from memory, and they had caught on fire by the sound and smell of it.

A sound, the sharp _bang_ of a bullet leaving a gun, echoed through the room.

Someone yelled, suddenly appearing right beside the Vongola Decimo from deep within the crowd.

A small, deadly piece of metal whizzed past the Sergeant's ear.

Acting on a habit formed from training idiots for too long, he turned, a, "Your name, officer?" leaping from his mouth before he could control it, the responding, "M-Maso, sir," barely registered under the cry of shock from the other side of him. He whirled back around, eyes widening and mind running a million miles an hour, and was not prepared for the sight before him.

A surprised Vongola Decimo, hands still raised, was now supporting his silver-haired right-hand-man - Gokudera, the Sergeant's mind supplied; dynamite user, usually inseparable from his boss, and absent until now. The man's face was twisted in agony, one hand raised to clutch at his right arm, and his body was angled in a clear attempt to physically shield his boss.

"_Gokudera!" _

Vongola's scream was piercing, his stricken expression by far the most human the Sergeant had seen him yet that night, and yet also the most terrifying. If there was one thing the Sergeant knew about the Vongola Decimo - one thing that would always be true, no matter what other beliefs were shaken - it was that he would do anything when a member of his Family was hurt. _Anything_.

Suddenly the mafioso, happy to mill around and jeer until now, began pushing against the barrier created by the Vongola. Blood had been spilt - Vongola blood - and they wanted revenge.

The next shot came from the other side, a young man in an expensive suit screaming insults and firing wildly. The Sergeant watched two of his officers fall - dead or simply wounded he couldn't tell - before the answering shots hit their mark and the mafioso fell with a bullet through his head. A yell rose from the surrounding mafioso, more bullets flying, and soon the noise had built into a roar as all out war resumed.

And through it all the Vongola stood firm, deflecting shots where they could and casting worried glances at their boss. Decimo was crouched in the center of the mess, huddled over his Storm Guardian where he had been lain on the floor. Curled up as such, it was a miracle the Sergeant was able to hear Vongola at all.

"Mukuro?" he asked, voice hard.

A muffled reply came back and the Vongola Decimo's smile was grim, even self-deprecating, as he looked up, taking in the battle around him, and finally locked eyes with the Sergeant.

"You were right; they're all idiots." A pause, then, "Get us out of here, Mukuro."

And the next thing the Sergeant knew - the next thing anyone knew - a roiling indigo-coloured fog had descended over the entire room and a sudden compulsion to drop their weapons and walk had grasped everyone. A haze fell over their minds, weapons falling from suddenly slack hands to clatter to the floor and as one the mafioso and police turned and walked from the ballroom, out onto the balcony and down the back stairs leading into the garden, just as fire swept into the room and the first column crashed to the ground.

* * *

When the Sergeant finally awoke he was in a corner of the gardens, far from the now completely-ablaze mansion and with a pounding headache beating a jig through his head. Frantic voices over the communicator in his ear were calling for a response for any one who would - could - hear, and particularly begging for orders.

The Sergeant turned to stare at the burning building, mind still sluggishly trying to understand what had just happened (Had he been saved by the Vongola? Had that really happened? And _how!?_), and eventually, finally, raised one tired hand to press his microphone's on button.

"Sergeant here; I copy. Call everyone back to the perimeter and start a head count. I repeat; regroup and headcount. I need to know how many survived." _And how many didn't._

* * *

It would be two days before anyone got back in, eventually discovering that somehow, miraculously, no one had perished in the fire and subsequent collapse of the building. A few bodies had been found but post-mortems had determined that every one of them had died from other causes - bullet wounds, mainly. Further investigation of the mansion had revealed that every piece of information or potentially incriminating evidence had disappeared as well, including every computer, filing cabinet and safe. The most interesting thing left was a large stash of treasure - mainly gems and gold, funnily enough - that had been discovered in the basement, protected from the fire and completely untouched.

All in all a relatively successful mission, Tsuna thought as he watched over Gokudera's bed in the hospital ward. A bullet in the arm was only a minor injury, in all honesty, but Shamal had insisted on sedating the Storm Guardian so that he would stay in bed long enough to heal. It jangled Tsuna's nerves to have any member of his family unconscious like this, but he understood Shamal's reasoning. The first time he had woken up Gokudera had immediately broken out of the ward (through had seven locks, three trip wires and a laser alarm) in a panicked attempt to find Tsuna and check he was okay. It had taken Tsuna and Bianchi to get him back into Shamal's reluctant care.

The fact that Gokudera had been the only Vongola injured apart from a few scrapes and bruises was a miracle in and of itself, Tsuna knew. The plan had always been a risky one, especially with having to coordinate so many people without anyone knowing anyone else's full plan - plausible deniability and all that - and the battle royale had not gone as planned. Still. Plans never worked, that much Reborn had beaten into him, but thankfully one of his back ups had. Mukuro had, for once, done exactly as ordered.

A small snuffle came from the bed and Tsuna smiled. Rough as he was awake, Tsuna could see why the girls insisted that a sleeping Gokudera was cute. He was curled up on his side, pillow pulled down slightly and an arm wrapped possessively around it, and he occasionally made soft noises or even muttered to himself. Dressed in white scrubs with all his usual accessories removed - minus his Vongola ring, of course - he looked like a completely different man.

Tsuna settled back into his chair, picking up a sheaf of paperwork from the table beside him and beginning to read. The collateral from the plan had been massive, finances wise, and several other famiglia were calling for his head. It had been a necessary maneuver unfortunately - and didn't he know all about those, since Reborn had taken over his life - but if the Vongola were going to survive the ensuing shit storm he would need to be strong. And as always, his strength would come from his Family.

Now if only he could work out how to explain it all to them.


	14. Explanations and Explosions

_I am very sorry this took so long. I don't like it and it's taken almost two months to squeeze out so please if you see any mistakes, let me know. I'll go through this chapter later, but I've read this over so many times I can almost quote some of it now. Also, seriously, the end of the manga! Did not help with motivating me to write. Did anyone else think it was way too sudden and weird? Also, there's a **poll** on my profile about the **Vongola Decimo vs. Neo Vongola Primo** thing. I can't decide which one I prefer, since they both have their pros and cons. And Reborn could have been joking but then NVP could be canon and I just don't know! It's frustrating.  
_

_Sorry I haven't gotten back to everyone's reviews too. I read them all, I promise! I've been really sick, and I've been unable to read a screen for more than an hour or so for a fair while now. Didn't get a chance to reply, and now it's really late. I'm sorry! On another note, you know how awesome it is to sleep for three days?  
_

_Hope everyone had a merry Christmas and a happy new year, and enjoy the chapter!  
_

* * *

Tsuna had eventually decided, after much deep thought and hiding away in the infirmary, that a family dinner was in order. His Guardians tended to be much better behaved when their stomachs were full - provided Bianchi hadn't cooked - and he couldn't afford to have them at anything less than their most amicable when he explained just what he had been doing over the last few weeks. They were not going to take it well, especially the part where he had lied to most of them.

Dinner went well. Or, at least, as well as could be expected with sixteen mafioso gathered in one room.

Tsuna's entire family was there, including all his Guardians, I-Pin, Fuuta, Haru, Kyoko, Bianchi and Shamal. Reborn had appeared as well, despite only giving Tsuna a blank stare when he had mentioned it (Reborn could have been asleep. Even after all these years, there were still times when Tsuna couldn't tell). Tsuna had basically begged Basil to come, knowing he would need the support before the night was through.

Fortunately only one food fight had broken out between Lambo and a newly-released Gokudera which had been quickly stopped by Haru and Yamamoto (and Tsuna refused to consider the implications of Yamamoto having the same kind of effect on Gokudera as the girls did on Lambo). Ryohei had begun yelling about a recent match half way through the second course (he had discovered a local underground boxing ring only two months after moving to Italy and had been delighted to find other 'extreme men who understand the extremeness of boxing!') which had become a much quieter spluttering once Kyoko turned on him with her usual rant about Ryohei risking himself unnecessarily.

Reborn had kept Hibari entertained (and although Tsuna was thankful for the small mercy he also did _not_ want to know what they had been discussing), Chrome had managed Mukuro (a full time job, and part of the reason she didn't get as many missions as his other Guardians) and everyone else had made small talk for the hour and a half it had taken to get through all three courses. Eventually though Tsuna had no more excuses for delaying the inevitable and had sighed, standing and gaining the automatic attention of everyone in the room.

"Is everyone done? Yes?" He glanced around, a hint of nervousness and something like guilt creeping into the edge of his voice. "Then, could we all move into the lounge? I have something I need to talk to everyone about."

Almost as one the others stood, the earlier jovial if slightly tense chattering replaced by a suffocating silence. Tsuna left first, Basil throwing him a small, reassuring smile as he drew level, and the others all trailed after him. _Like puppies,_ Tsuna thought, remembering a comment a confused and suspicious Hana had made just before they all left for Italy. _They are just like loyal, protective and occasionally overly-violent puppies. _

The lounge was in fact one of four, but Tsuna had claimed this one as his own due to the calming blue colour scheme that was unlike the various shades of red that dominated most of the rooms in the Vongola headquarters. Now, though, the sky blue hues were doing nothing to calm his racing heart.

"Tsuna."

The brunette mafia boss jumped at his name, his mind sluggishly returning from dream-land to realise that all of his family were seated and gazing at him expectantly. Yamamoto was the one who had spoken, his expression unusually serious. Gokudera sat beside him on the couch, obviously concerned, and for once the close proximity wasn't causing a fight. If there was one thing that could unite Tsuna's Guardians, it was worry for himself.

"This is-" Tsuna broke off with a cough, stopping before he could start stuttering, and took a moment to compose himself. Why, oh, why was it so hard to do this!? He could face down enemy mafioso, even pissed off police sergeants, without breaking a sweat and yet the instant he had to tell his family something he knew they wouldn't like to hear he was straight back to being Dame-Tsuna! Becoming a mafia boss was meant to have fixed that!

"Tsuna," Reborn murmured, and the Vongola boss's head snapped up. "It's alright. You did what you had to."

That seemed to make his Guardians both more worried (Yamamoto) and less (Gokudera, who had brightened slightly with the implication that the problem, whatever it was, had already been dealt with). Tsuna couldn't help but smile - Reborn, as always, knew just what to say.

"Right." Tsuna glanced around once more, taking comfort in the fact this was his family, took a deep breath and finally began.

"This - everything I'm about to say - is top secret. Nobody is to breathe a word of it to anyone outside of this room, understand?" Nods came from almost everyone - Hibari the exception, as usual - and Tsuna ploughed on. "I didn't tell you before - any of you - because I didn't want to make you worry, in case it was just something minor. And then when it became a big issue I didn't..." He swallowed. "I couldn't afford to tell you. At this point in time, the safety and security of the Vongola as a whole rests on the fact that our enemies think we don't know what's happening."

Understanding was beginning to dawn on his family's faces, even in the expressions of nine year old Lambo and I-Pin and thirteen year old Fuuta who, despite Tsuna not wanting them to be exposed to this kind of plot, were in as much danger as any of the rest of them and therefore needed to know the information that could potentially save their lives.

"You would all remember," Tsuna continued, "the meeting I was in last week. The one I couldn't tell you anything about? I called that meeting for one specific purpose - to discuss with our allied famiglias and organisations a problem that we're all currently facing." A pause, another nervous glance around the room, then; "Someone is targeting the lower-ranking members of the Vongola and its allies, and have, to this day, killed almost two hundred people."

The shocked looks of his family - Haru and Kyoko had leant into each other, an arm each wrapped tightly around Lambo and I-Pin - made Tsuna feel all the more justified in keeping this from them until now. If only he had been able to solve it all and never had to tell anyone else about it, he would have been very happy. To have to cause such worried expressions...

"Tsuna," Yamamoto almost whispered. "What happened?"

So Tsuna launched into the story he had told the others during the meeting - of how he had noticed the rising fatality rates in the lower ranks of the Vongola and taken the issue to Basil, who had quickly found similar if rather less obvious trends within CEDEF and then, when they thought to look, the Vongola's allies. How civilians had been caught in the crossfire, the total death toll consisting almost two-thirds innocent people - the girls had gasped, and Chrome had placed a hand on Mukuro's shoulder as his trident materialised, his grip on the staff turning his knuckles white. And of how plans had been made, the Mafia Ball one of them, and in such a way that the Vongola would, hopefully, take the brunt of the attacks while their allies shored up their own defenses, so that they would be ready to back up the Vongola when the time came.

After fifteen minutes straight of talking, Tsuna was immensely glad of the glass of water Basil handed him from a side table. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen such levels of concern on his family's faces, and it made him feel mildly guilty. They, of course, didn't give him time to dwell on it though, as after a few moments of dead silence they all started firing questions at him at once.

"Why didn't you tell us!?"

"What plans were made, Vongola?"

"Do you need me to rank anything, Tsuna-nii?"

"What can we do to help, Tenth?"

"What's been done for all the poor innocent people who died?"

"Who do I need to bite to death, omnivore?"

The sudden cacophony of noise startled a laugh out of Tsuna. A small chuckle at first, it soon evolved into an unstoppable roll of laughter that had Tsuna clutching an arm across his stomach, tears of mirth gathering in his eyes. The edge of hysteria to it didn't help either, and his family shut up far more quickly than they usually did, many looking confused.

"Sorry," Tsuna gasped out as he slowly straightened a minute later. "I just- You don't know how good it is to have you all with me, after worrying about this on my own for so long." He caught Basil's smile and Reborn's knowing smirk out of the corner of his eye, and couldn't help but smile in return.

"For now," he answered, "we don't really need to do anything. Plans are in motion, but they mainly involve the other families. Calling you here tonight was so I could explain what has been happening and what will happen in the future so that you're all up to speed. This isn't a game-" a pointed smile was thrown at a momentarily grinning Yamamoto, "-and you'll need to know the details if we're to pull this off properly."

"You keep mentioning 'the others'," Yamamoto spoke up. "Who are they?"

Raising one hand, Tsuna ticked off on his fingers, "The Varia, obviously. The Arcobaleno," a nod to Reborn, "the Cavallone, the Shimon and the Giglio Nero." He almost mentioned Foundation, but decided against it at the last moment. That was one plan that needed his family to react to genuinely, and they wouldn't if they knew about it beforehand.

"So all these groups," Kyoko pressed, "they've all been hit by these... murders?" She was frowning, Haru mirroring her expression, and Tsuna felt, not for the first time, a flash of his younger self's determination to keep the girls out of the mafia. All it took was a glance at Chrome, still restraining Mukuro, and a brief check that identified the gun strapped to Kyoko's leg and the knives in Haru's boots - even here, in Vongola Headquarters, they remained armed - for Tsuna to remember that that decision had been taken from him a long time ago. It was Haru and Kyoko who had gone to first Bianchi then Lal Mirch in search of training, only coming to him with their insistence on officially joining his famiglia as combatants when they were able to take down several seasoned Vongola mafioso in two three-on-one brawls.

"Unfortunately, yes." Tsuna scowled down into his now empty cup. When Basil's hand appeared, offering to refill it, he smiled gratefully, knowing that he would be talking for quite a while yet.

"The Mafia Ball," Yamamoto suddenly cut in. He was frowning, for once completely ditching the happy-go-lucky, naive persona as he considered everything he already knew. "That was part of it, wasn't it? That was your first move."

"Not the first, no," Tsuna disagreed. He could see the surprise in the others' eyes and sighed. This was where the real explanations started.

"Gokudera," he called, making said Storm Guardian's ears perk up. "You remember the mission I sent you on two weeks ago, where you spent a few days in Australia?"

His right hand man frowned and nodded. "It was a test of our notoriety overseas. I went through standard border security," and here he blushed, remembering his rather large mistake, "then spent three days in pre-planned, partially-scripted meetings with various local crime bosses. The aim was to see if my presence there drew attention from local law enforcement agencies or the underworld, and to test who would recognise me and what their actions from then on would be."

Tsuna winced. It had been a good cover story, but... "Hayato, it wasn't staged."

The silver-haired bomber frowned in confusion, mind ticking over rapidly. "What?"

"The men and women you met with - all those crime bosses and underground traders? They hadn't had any more warning than an untraceable phone call saying you were coming and that you had questions. Everything you asked them - every question in the scripts contained in the mission file - were honest questions." In other circumstances Tsuna would have laughed at the disbelief beginning to shine through in his family's expressions. "I needed information and you were the perfect person to send."

Gokudera's expression deepened. "Then... you lied?"

Tsuna managed to hide the wince this time, but only just. "Yes, I lied. Unfortunately it was necessary - I couldn't explain why I was sending you because I couldn't say anything about the killings even through the information you were asking about was potentially directly related. I couldn't just send you off without giving you a reason for the mission either because you would have assumed the people I'd sent you to meet had done something against the Vongola and that would have made you more hostile towards them. Which would have, in turn, brought more attention to yourself and the questions you were asking. Plus, I knew exactly what information I needed and what to ask to get it, so giving you a rough script and saying the others were in on it - that the questions had been chosen specifically as safe, neutral topics - not only made sure I got exactly what I wanted but also prevented you from being too aggressive." He shrugged awkwardly. "It was kinda necessary."

Silence reigned for all of ten seconds before Mukuro started laughing. "Kufufu, the little Vongola has learnt how to deceive people!"

"I wouldn't call it deceiving," Tsuna hesitantly defended. "More... damage control."

A smirk from Mukuro, Hibari and Reborn and a soft laugh from Yamamoto answered the blush on Gokudera's face. Over the last four years he had gradually gotten used to the idea that sometimes he could be a bit over the top (any comparison to Ryohei had been killed off in the first six months, after he worked out how to set Uri on the perpetrator) but it still caused slight embarrassment for the volatile bomber.

A roar from the Sun Guardian cut through the family moment. "I extremely don't understand!"

Kyoko smiled fondly at her brother but more than one of the others sighed in exasperation.

Tsuna, well used to paraphrasing for the boxer, simply summarised, "I couldn't tell Gokudera the real reason why he was going on the mission so I pretended it was something different, okay, onii-san?"

Ryohei paused, thinking it over - his obliviousness had decreased, thankfully, but only because Collonello had repetitively pounded into him the necessity of taking the time to think before acting - then grinned. "So it was a secret!"

If they had been in a comic, half the mafioso in the room would have sweat-dropped.

"Yes, onii-san," Tsuna answered with a smile. He had to take a moment to get his brain back on track, the smile slipping as he remembered the point of this meeting. Well, no time like the present.

"You would all also remember the mission I sent Hibari on, to disable the Cuchillo Famiglia so that Basil's CEDEF team could strip the mansion of all its information." Nods came from all his family, though he avoided looking at Hibari, knowing that he would be scowling at the implication that he had been lied to. Luckily, "That wasn't entirely incorrect. I just sort of... left out the fact that there is a secret agreement between myself and the Cuchillo boss." He smiled shakily. "Due to the Cuchillo's neutrality as information dealers, they can't be seen to be favouring one family over another during a conflict. However, Cuchillo Secondo, during an underground war in the Vongola Sixth's time, made an agreement with four famiglias: should another conflict that threatened the mafia world begin, the famiglias had permission to stage a raid to borrow the Cuchillo's information, providing all damages were compensated and the information was returned within a reasonable time frame."

Tsuna could see the dawning looks of surprise and understanding - and grudging respect from Hibari - and felt relieved. "I chose Hibari to send the message that it was a serious mission and because I knew he was the least likely to question a raid on an unaffiliated and neutral famiglia." Hibari's smirk said it all - the fact that Tsuna had begun to learn how to direct his blood lust and use it as a weapon amused him. "So Hibari went in," Tsuna repeated, "and incapacitated the Cuchillo's men, CEDEF removed all evidence of any mafia affiliation and Hibari razed the mansion. We held Don Cuchillo for three days while the underworld calmed down then dumped him on the police who, with no evidence, had to release him a couple of days later. We got our information, Don Cuchillo got his compensation and a brief holiday from the mafia, and everyone's happy."

Apparently revealing secrets plans like this was one of the few ways to keep his family silent for a significant length of time. Tsuna would have to remember that.

"You raided an information dealer's headquarters." Yamamoto's eyes were sharp, piercing through Tsuna, as he thought aloud. "So they had information on the killings?"

"Yes," Tsuna confirmed. "Both Gokudera and Hibari's missions were aimed at finding information on a group of nineteen freelance mercenaries who recently moved from Australia to Italy, all within a few weeks of each other and right around the time the lower rank fatality rate started increasing. CEDEF sent out requests for intel on any similar movements in the various European countries they have agents in and discovered another forty-three mercenaries who also moved here recently. We haven't been able to get any information from the Americas or Africa yet, but with so many mercs already sourced from two continents it's a high possibility."

"This... situation," Haru asked, "how did you find out about it?" She was obviously worried, but also seemed slightly dubious.

Tsuna smiled. "Fon. He was visiting an old friend in Australia-" Fon had declared he was going on a world trip three months ago to visit several martial arts masters and had been sending back regular updates, particularly to I-Pin, "- and the friend made a comment about the local underground having been exceptionally quiet recently. Fon had a look into it and found some rumours." Tsuna threw a carefully blank-faced Reborn a knowing look. Reborn hated owing anyone, and he had been ignoring Fon's contribution to discovering the plot ever since Tsuna first mentioned it. "Basil and I did talk about it, but it slipped our minds until we started noticing the murders."

"Tsuna-nii..." Fuuta called, softly. Everyone's attention immediately focused on the teen, obvious or not, but he ignored it as he continued, "The mission Lambo, I-Pin and I went on..."

"Ah, that," Tsuna mumbled, ducking his head to avoid the suddenly searing stares of the four girls in the room. Lambo and Fuuta were staring too, but Lambo was more excited than anything, suddenly realising his mission might have been more important than he had thought, and Fuuta simply wanted to know the truth, understanding possibly the best of everyone there just how powerful information was.

"Tsuna, if you put the kids in danger..." Kyoko threatened, voice sickly sweet in a manner she had perfected after her third meeting with an overly interested mafioso.

Tsuna winced. "Not in danger, exactly...?" he tried. The glares didn't abate, so he hurriedly explained, "I didn't lie about their mission goals or anything! They were just a distraction while Basil's team infiltrated the main base and took all the information we needed. I swear, they were even on the other side of the mall to the mercs main-"

"Hahi!" Haru jumped up, dislodging I-Pin from her lap, to point at Tsuna accusingly, her other hand on her hip. "You sent them into a building full of _mercenaries!?"_

"Tsuna!" Kyoko cried, her arm tightening around a grinning Lambo (who might have been muttering something along the lines of, "Mercenaries! That is so _cool_," but Tsuna couldn't really hear him). "How could you!"

"They were the least suspicious!" Tsuna defended, voice rising even as his shoulders hunched in. "All they had to do was run around and cause chaos then get out of there once Basil's team were done. They were fine!"

"And if they'd been caught?" Haru demanded. "What would have happened then?"

"Basil was within five hundred metres of them the whole time, and he had more people stationed around the perimeter in case something went wrong. We had everything covered!"

"Tsuna, the _whole building_ collapsed," Kyoko reminded him. "What if they hadn't made it out in time!?"

"Um," Lambo suddenly spoke up, eyes wide. "That was kind of my fault?"

The ensuing silence - and Tsuna was learning to appreciate those short moments more and more every day - was almost comical. Lambo couldn't seem to work out if he was in trouble or not, Kyoko and Haru looked torn between comforting him and continuing the argument, Chrome was still glaring at Tsuna having not said a word yet, and Tsuna was trying to think of the easiest way to change topics inconspicuously. Yamamoto, Gokudera, Ryohei and Basil were pointedly looking at the floor or walls in an attempt to not be noticed. They had all learnt early on that the girls, when sufficiently pissed off, were no longer just resourceful and highly creative but also had the skills to pull off some extremely scary revenge (locking all the boys out of Vongola Headquarters for a night and slipping them all a delayed-onset poison in their breakfasts had been two of the worst).

Thankfully, Basil came to the rescue.

"That mission was extremely important, Kyoko, Haru," he argued. "We suspected the mercenaries were using the mall as a cover for an underground hideout, and we needed to get in to check it out and take what information we could. Unfortunately we couldn't send in yourselves as, due to not being immediately recognised as enemy mafioso, you would have only been regarded as a nuisance and not the threat that we needed to create a large enough distraction for my own team to successfully enter the premises. Anyone else in the family would either have the same problem or would stand out too much.

"Gokudera, for example-" the bomber finally looked up from his examination of the photos over the fireplace, eyes slightly wild at having been dragged in, "-would have been noticed the instant he was within one hundred metres of the building and removed as quickly as possible. The children," he nodded to each of the Troublesome Trio, "were instead able to pass by unnoticed until they were deep enough within the enemy territory that revealing themselves had the maximum effect."

Lambo beamed at the praise (or so he understood it - Gokudera was smirking in a way that suggested he had taken Basil's spiel to mean, "They're midgets and not famous, so they were perfect to send in unnoticed") and I-Pin and Fuuta were blushing slightly, I-Pin attempting to hold back her smile.

"Honestly," Tsuna insisted, knowing he needed to win the girls back or there would be hell to pay, "if there had been another way that would have given the same results I would have used it. But Lambo, I-Pin and Fuuta were the best choice and I figured that, if something did go wrong, back up was close enough by that they would be fine. They're mafioso," Tsuna pointed out, gaze suddenly steady and sure as he met Kyoko and Haru's eyes. "They've been trained for this since before we first met any of them, and they're good at it, you know they are." Turning to gaze at the three kids surrounding the girls, not letting the conversation just flow around them, he added, "You did very good."

The girls only sat there for a minute, Haru having retaken her seat halfway through Tsuna's monologue, then shared a silent conversation for a few seconds. Eventually they turned back and the tightness around their mouths and eyes had disappeared, though they weren't exactly smiling, so Tsuna relaxed. A quick glance at Chrome confirmed that she concurred - he wasn't quite forgiven, but they did understand why he had done what he had done.

"So, Tsuna!" Yamamoto began. "If you had some big master plan that all these missions fit into, what about the Mafia Ball?"

Tsuna couldn't help but smile in reply to Yamamoto's bright grin - the swordsman knew he had just saved Tsuna's ass from the girls and would be asking for repayment later.

"The Ball," Tsuna explained with a confirming glance at Basil, "served several purposes. As you all know, Kyoko and Haru," and he made sure to smile at the two still-disgruntled spies, "have been undercover as police recruits for the last couple of weeks. This week they started a series of lectures on the Vongola-" that was met by many smirks and a couple of laughs, "-which we recently discovered were, in response to the Vongola publicly declining our invite, shifted forward two weeks so that they would be briefed in time to attend the Mafia Ball as a learning experience. The girls were then joined by Enma, who posed as a secretary-" Gokudera hid a laugh behind a cough, though no one was fooled, "-and slipped them information as per a plan we had set out."

That part was new to them, and Tsuna had to hide a grin. If they realised how busy Enma had been, checking, copying and altering all their records in the main national law enforcement database...

"The idea was to trick the police into crashing the Ball late in the evening, by keeping them unaware of our attendance and by feeding them wrong information about the time Ball began and ended." Tsuna frowned because that part obviously hadn't gone to plan - the police had been early - and he would need to find out why. "A plan was worked out between myself, Basil and our allies - a plan none of us knew the full details of, only what we needed to know, for safety's sake. Our goals," and here he paused because this was the important part and, really, he had risked a lot and if his family didn't agree with him-

"Our goals," he continued, voiced strengthening with false confidence, "were to route out moles and spies by bugging the mansion, watching who ran when the police arrived and by tracing back what information leaked from where; to allow certain high ranking members of the mafia to be arrested to keep them out of our way while we investigated the murders; to draw the police's attention to the underworld - particularly the Vongola - in the hopes that they will notice the recent deaths and investigate from their end as well; to have a valid reason to clear out the mansion like we did with the Cuchillo, seizing all information and evidence of underground activity to add to our own databases; and to create a distraction big enough to draw the attention of the underworld - the _whole_ underworld - so that we could go digging in the shadows while everyone else is focused on the police and the fire."

The _and to make ourselves a target_ wasn't said, but everyone understood it just fine.

"Wow," Yamamoto whistled. "How long did that take to plan?"

"A month," Tsuna answered with a wry grin, sharing a look with Basil. "Others helped, particularly in the later stages of the planning, but we've pulled a lot of all-nighters in the last few weeks."

"Wait," Kyoko interrupted. He voice and expression were sharp, her mind obviously busy putting together clues. "Our mission...?"

At the confused looks from most of the other mafioso Tsuna gave her a nod and Kyoko explained, "Before the Ball, Tsuna told me that at his signal Haru, Yamamoto and I were to take the kids and retreat. We ran, and found the car that had been left for us nearby but when we slipped inside we found a list of instructions." She glanced around, getting smiles from Haru and Yamamoto, but the others still looked lost. "Haru drove the kids back to base and dropped Yamamoto and I off at the Seven Skies."

"You went _there!?" _Lambo exclaimed. "I want to go!"

Haru tightened her arm around the hyperactive child as he bounced in his seat. "When you're older." She raised an inquiring brow at Tsuna. "Why would you send them there?"

"It's a hub for underground activity masquerading as a bar," Tsuna pointed out. "Even in such a short time there was no way the locals hadn't heard about the police raid on the Ball and they would have congregated there to find out what was happening. I sent Kyoko and Yamamoto to see what they could hear."

"It was interesting," Yamamoto admitted with a shrug, though his gaze was sharp. "There were lots of new faces who were asking plenty of questions and not drinking much at all. We thought it was just a delegation moving through but..."

Tsuna nodded. "The pictures you brought back matched the profiles for several of the mercenaries we've been tracking. We assume they heard about the raid and, being new to the country, went to the most well known mafia hangout for information. Or at least sent someone else to check it out for them."

Frowns and narrowed eyes focused on Tsuna from every direction and Tsuna raised his hands defensively. "It was necessary-"

"That seems to be becoming your motto, Vongola," Mukuro cut in as he stood from the couch he had been relaxing in. "But in this case I agree. 'Know thy enemy' and all that." He stretched and added, "Is that all? I have things to do."

Chrome scowled at Mukuro's dismissiveness but Tsuna smiled. He was sick of talking and the kids were fidgeting - it was time to wrap this meeting up. A glance at Basil who pointedly waved his phone slightly confirmed it. Everyone had other places to be, mostly by Tsuna's order.

"So, in summary: someone is attacking the Vongola and our allies, murdering the lower ranks and anyone who gets in their way. The missions Gokudera, Hibari, the kids and Yamamoto and Kyoko conducted in recent weeks were all done in an attempt to gather information that might help us track down whoever is targeting us, while the Mafia Ball was used as a cover and means for several objectives. Now..."

"Tenth?" Gokudera questioned after a moment of silence.

Tsuna stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to gaze at each of his Famiglia in turn, trying to memorise their faces for the millionth time since he became the Vongola boss.

Finally Tsuna let his head drop, eyes fixed on the table in the centre of the room, and whispered, "Just be careful. Please."

"Is there a plan?" Yamamoto asked, voice still sharp but with a softer undertone that made Tsuna look up. "Tsuna, what can we do?"

A grimace flickered across Tsuna's face before it settled into an almost closed-off expression of guilt and fear. "Nothing. For now, nothing. Just- Keep this secret, okay?" Tsuna attempted a smile. "Don't say anything or do anything suspicious and go along with whatever happens, okay? The plan relies on the enemy not realising how much we know or what we're planning." And for once Tsuna was actually rather optimistic about this plan. He and Basil had spent a lot of time on it even before presenting it to the other bosses, and with the number of contingencies they had planned for it would take something very big to really throw them off.

It took a few seconds, but eventually hesitant nods and muttered agreements came from everyone and Tsuna's smile firmed up a little more. They were with him. It was fine; they were with him.

"Tsuna..." Basil murmured from beside him. Tsuna turned to nod at him, palming his own phone and wincing at the time. That had taken far longer than he had planned it to.

"Are there any questions?" Everyone looked thoughtful, nobody said anything so Tsuna smiled and stepped back, Basil rising to follow. "If you think of anything, feel free to ask me later. Unfortunately I have paperwork to do."

"Have fun!" Yamamoto laughed, a few of the others smiling slightly at Tsuna's grimace. Tsuna nodded back and waved a little in response to Lambo's, "Good night!" then he was turning to leave.

And as he swept out the door, Basil by his side, Tsuna shared a brief look with Hibari. That was one plan he couldn't tell the others about, in case their reactions tipped off the enemy, but it was also one that would need to be implemented soon. He needed to push the other side into making a move, and removing Hibari from the equation would make them look weak, which would hopefully be the kind of opening the enemy would be looking for. Hopefully they would fall for it and everything would go to plan.

Tsuna and Basil were only a good ten steps down the hall when their phones rang simultaneously. They glanced at each other, worry clouding their expressions, then Basil was turning away and they were both answering their phones.

"Hello?" Tsuna asked hesitantly. This was his personal mobile, not his work phone, and there were very few people who knew it existed. Even less actually had his number.

"Oh, god, Tsuna. You're okay? Please tell me you're okay. I mean-" The sound of a blast not too far away cut off the voice briefly and made Tsuna's heart sink. "Shit. That was-" Then the sound was muffled as the speaker yelled at someone else, hand covering the microphone.

"Dino!?"

"Yeah, Tsuna," the Cavallone boss replied, and there was a heaviness to his breath that suggested he was running. "_Please _tell me you're okay."

"Yes, I'm fine," Tsuna murmured distractedly, spinning to stare with wide eyes at Basil who was now staring back, expression pinched with worry and confusion and a little fear. For Basil to look like that the reports he was getting must be _very_ bad. "Dino, what-"

Another explosion came over the call and Tsuna winced in sympathy as yells and screams echoed in the distance.

"We were attacked," Dino's voice panted, barely audible over the sounds of gunfire. "Just openly attacked by _dozens_ of men, Tsuna. All in black with masks and no identifiers. It was-" A rumble and suddenly Dino was cursing. "Shit, no- _God damn it!_ Romario!"

"Dino, please," Tsuna pleaded, voice breaking in fear, "what can I do to help? I'll send my Guardians over - Hibari won't mind, or Mukuro. And the Varia are close-"

"No, Tsuna," Dino cut in. "Don't. Please. That's why I called. Leave this to us. Afterward, when the fighting is over and we've got it dealt with, a clean up crew would be good and some techs 'cause our IT department went up right near the start-" and Dino choked a little on that and Tsuna understood he meant it had gone up with everyone still inside, "-but for now, just stay away."

The door cracked open and Gokudera and Yamamoto poked their heads out, obviously having overheard something. Tsuna waved them forward and put his phone onto speaker so they could hear. It only took a second for them to process the sounds of battle and Yamamoto was running back to the doorway to yell something at the others. Tsuna didn't hear it; he was too intent on Dino.

"Dino, we can help. You can't just-"

"No. Leave this to us. I just wanted to warn you. If they're after us, then it won't be long until they're after you. Be careful, Tsuna." Yet another explosion, this one way too close for Tsuna's liking, and Dino cursed again. "I've got to go."

"Dino-!"

The line cut out and Tsuna was left with his phone pressed against his ear for a moment before his brain woke up again and he felt the familiar fire start to flow through his veins. Even as Basil hung up, Gokudera started calling people and his famiglia spilled through into the hall with worry clear on most of their faces, Tsuna knew only the growing heat and his resolve strengthening, potential plans and orders racing through his mind.

Someone had attacked his friends and his family. Someone had killed a lot of people Tsuna cared for and felt responsible for. Screw his plans to hand people over to the Vendiche, or to offer people second chances. Someone had attacked _him_.

There would be no mercy.


End file.
